Final Song

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Final Song

Orpheus stands
lyre in hand .
He disappears into the trees
on meandering path .
And in a quiet grove
while singing to the birds
& leaves ,
his beating heart
is ripped apart
by frenzied
feline fingers .
His blood
is spilling on to ground ,
as white lilies
drown ,
in the final sweetness
of his song
under arching
weeping willows.
By moonlight
he will walk ,
light as
coloured wings on air ,
back to the riverside
for a final ride
to meet
awaiting love
on the other side .

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By The River Shore at Night

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By the River Shore At Night

The full moon was pillowed
In the glow of cloud
Iluminating the river shore,
as Orpheus plucked
his heavenly resounding string.
The boatman
tired
had given up his rowing
And taken up the sale of books,
and other things.

So Sidhartha
approached
from darkness
from the shelter of the many trees,
to take up the boatman’s mantel
first asking for a balaclava
to sheild him from remembrance,
from the cold
and the familiar,
To take up the oar, the boat,
their travels,
back and forth.

“My country is not so cold”
he said
“and I’m not used to chill.”

“In the countries where I’ve lived
the owners of the lands
are wealthy
and the people suffer still.”
So I’ve come here to the shore
to ferry,
to forget
troubles and desire,
to listen to the music of the waters
and to heal,
receive,
repeat and mirror
the placid rivers aid,

To put my faith in the One,
once again
To strum the water
with new found ancient oar,
To ferry the disenchanted,
the broken hearted,
the heroes,
the lost and the forlorn,
Some wrapped in white
linen sheet,
Some on bed of flowers,
Some on wooden barge
lit by single flames,
Some reduced to bare
And pristine bone,
to the golden islands,
or to the other shores.