The Waterfall

I’m going through the yellowed pages,

The ink sodden and blurred, yet the words alive,

The images come back from the crevices they were shut into,

The photo frames shine in the spotlight,

Back on the stand where they stood in their time,

Memories unearthed from the moments misplaced,

I had those thoughts once upon a time, of reverie and fun,

Till the dusk shone down with its cruel hand of darkness,

Nightmares galore and silences aplenty,

I stood under the clouds showering me in their tears,

As I shed my sorrow, driven by the moist midst,

It was a rage of emotion, sculpted in subtle means,

Torrents and tumults altogether in the tempest,

It was a way, it was a path; it was a road in the dark,

Left alight by the brief flashes, just enough to glance,

The wind swirled and the river curled,

The spray spellbindingly cold on my hot skin,

I was flowing through my self, just in another form,

Running from one place to another, trying to get a grip,

Colliding with one side, and then the other,

Till it all knocked me out cold,

It was just an odd buzz in my ear, loud yet so far away,

I shook away the darkness only to see the bottom,

I knew the moment had come, it was inevitable,

I knew about the steep fall coming my way, but not so soon,

I was at the top of the waterfall, and the only way was down.