The River

This is a poem I’ve written five or six years ago. It’s about the unity of man, as a sublime idea. Whether or not it is achievable—-in a world full of discord and disharmony—-is a question that waits so ardently for an answer. And I hope it to be answered in the most positive way.

The River of Mesopotamia

In the ancient valleys of Tigris,

in the days of still molt and rock;

a river sung the serenade

of the beginnings of life,

as it moved in crystalline fluidity,

to brim with sparkles and light,

and come across upon a rock reckoned in time,

it is a moment set forth as a matter of design.

And the river became two,

the great parting of waters

in the dawning of the Earth,

to thread two different roads

and two different eras,

one found in the East,

another in the West,

to spread further and further,

until the sound they hear were

merely of their own

and nothing more.

Rushing in vigor and strength

each alone in the wilderness,

among the great wars of the world,

through the ashes of kingdoms burnt,

the mischief of kings and emperors,

through scorched earth of conquests,

of kingdoms and empires

both the fortunate and the inopportune;

as they run feverishly,

one oblivious to the other,

welcoming merely the beatings

of their own hearts

and of no other,

and every other beating of the heart they hear

was of the enemy and the enemy merely.

Amidst the rage of their marathon,

seemingly unending and without destination,

and with a ferocity so great that

even rocks of great prominence

would crumble into dust—-

by the sheer strength of their pursuits,

or by the wave of their hands.

As another time was set forth,

where for once they looked heavenward

the journeys they threaded

finally found a single star,

to speak the truth in their own hearts

that in their own glorious runs,

no matter how magnificent and forceful,

still the Heavens are their own navigators,

upon the comets and constellations,

so that the rivers would find a path to travel,

a road set forth from the beginning of time

while they go nearer and nearer,

they begin to hear the same beat

that is not merely of their own separate hearts,

but of two hearts moving as one

running faster and faster,

like stallions in the hills of a desert

where in the beginning of time

there is only one river

that became two,

and then becoming one again.