Hearts of lightness
float downriver
Through mist
becoming clear
Land now friendly
never fear
Land now yours
a price paid dear
Hearts of lightness
traverse the rapids
Head for calm
from the rough
Te awa (river) calls softly
Do you hear
Te awa (river) calls loudly
shedding its tears
Hearts of lightness
Sail for home
Paddle deep
hard and strong
From the forests
sublime song
Into the world
that you belong
Hearts of lightness
flow on, flow on.....
Wishing a good voyage and a safe passage to El Presidente and his wahine (Woman/wife) on their adventure down the mighty Whanganui River.
"ko au te awa, te awa ko au"
"We are the river, the river is us"
Whanganui Iwi (Tribe) whakatauki (Proverb or saying)
3 comments:
myth and history
echoes through the chasms
and canyons
on a ribbon of satin water
coursing downstream
through raw indigenous bush
untouched
except by oppossum
and stoat
diminished bird call
cying to be heard
the old ways
slowly drifting to open water
tradition rooted
deeper than the sands
covering sodden river bank
revolutions quietly progress
masked by the white noise
of running rapids
we can hear them coming
but won't know their measure
until they're right upon us
the river plays
tricks of light
mirage
amongst the driftwood
spirits temporarily
taking form
the natural
voice of dreams
conjuring
waka plying
villages rising
from the bleached
carnage of fallen forest
decay
wedged against rock
and into the shore
the current still
strong
despite the diminished
water level
stolen down
diverted streams.
Much better poem mate, like it you should put it in the entry as a response, karanga mai, karanga mai...
Blow Joggs Blow.
Easy Rider river song travels back, travels on, flowing in diamond sparkle memories of light, in silt unearthing shards of truth that scintillate like glass calling through all time a long forgotten past that dances the dance of a split second lifetime night time away into a sense of senselessness that shakes awake Siddhartha daydreams spinning and weaving waves of chaos, turbulence and torrent washing up the debris of Zen million personal paradises of one's own imagining created on the whirligig of time, and banks of eternal pebble dust that reverberate and resonate with rhyme, with reason, without, ripping up a ferocious roar of force that has torn concrete blocks apart, uprooting all in it's path, unconfined and defiant, on the edge of the horizon, it's song unconditional, enduring for millennia the rising of the sun, worshipping diversity, all that has been , all that is , and all that has yet to come.
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