Washed over me

This stream of thought.
This river of time.
Washes over and feels sublime.
I watch the world as it drifts on by.
A passing ripple.
A distant cry.
Yet I have drowned in these moments passed.
Lost now forever.
For nothing lasts.
And though my body floats on the tide.
It’s only a reminder.
Of how all life subsides.

29/09/202109/08/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, life, waterTags: art, cleanse, death, life, poem, Poetry, rhyme, river, soul, spiritual, tide, water 8 Comments