as a river
its origins in the falling of rain in far mountains
so our lives begin
small streams running ever onwards
gathering growth from storms and clouds
until they become full in flood
powerful, unstoppable, wreaking good or evil
spreading on the plains
in braided relationships
until they fall at last
down that final cataract
over the river bar
into the waiting arms of the sea

7 thoughts on “RHYTHM OF THE TIDE

    • and here is the master…

      Crossing the Bar by Alfred Lord Tennyson

      Sunset and evening star
      and one clear call for me!
      And may there be no moaning of the bar,
      when I put out to sea,

      But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
      too full for sound and foam,
      when that which drew from out the boundless deep
      turns again home.

      Twilight and evening bell,
      and after that the dark!
      And may there be no sadness of farewell,
      when I embark;

      For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
      the flood may bear me far,
      I hope to see my Pilot face to face
      when I have crossed the bar.

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