The sun rises
And the streams devices
The bed does throw
Leading it astray
The crisis
Streams slice
Waters pour
Crashing walls
Flooding villages
Washing crops
Destroying a path
Forever behind
The moon returns
It stops the night
What would we do if we couldn't speak?
YOU ARE READING
One Last Star
PoetryThe future only comes with the overcoming the past. I write these with a emotional, spiritual and personal meaning. I leave the interpretation and speculation to the reader.
