Following The River
With time on my hands
I have at last done it
Gone all the way up the little river
Past every creek and rill that joins
And farther on
To where the river itself is only
A narrow and shallow flow.
I keep following
Over fences now
And through laurel thickets
I must wade the center of the stream to pass
Into a ravine, where the water flows over and around worn stones
Finally, I go under the canopy of the forest
And up the mountainside.
At the end of it all, just below the mountain ridge
Clear water gushes from the mud
This is birth.
At the end of it all
Is not revelation, but mystery.