River Stellarum

The mouth of an aging river waits, suspended for the rain’s blessing

Nourished by itself and needing nothing else

but water emptied from expectant clouds

Is this emptiness a ritual?

The water, a benevolent gift from the skies?

I know not--yet it’s where I find myself these days

Resting my mind in replete awareness

For rain drops to reflect who I am:

I see the stars walk in

How distant they once were

How shiny but inconsequential

To chart my way through the vastness The blinding dark, to sail far away from landlocked miles of limitation

To arrive home

Where I burn like a fire into the night

Raising a glass to the Milky River

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