River's arms

Fire by night’s edge on river's left
burns into dawn without concern
consuming all fears the darkness brings.
All that remains is the beacon in the shadow

Death on river's right chills the night
dead mist hangs till dawns embrace.
Darkness spawning terror in all that lives.
All that remains is fear in the blackness

The murky waters of light and dark
flow without thought or care for
surrounding conflicts of fate.

Last Rites

This was one of my earlier poems but one that I have always felt attached to. For one thing I like how the imagery came out and the concept of time (an artificial creation of man to confine himself to his believed fate) has always interested me.

Time

I feel the currents of time
pull at my feet.
The flow of a thousand images
passing through me.
Where single footsteps create
thousands of ripples.
The swirling winds of purpose
tear down mountains.
Where oceans become deserts
and deserts to forests.
I see the world drift and flow by
like a spring stream.
Where time and earth mix to show
past and future
in the blink of an eye.