The River And The Map

Journey. To whatever destination, by whatever means.

The River And The Map

I have heard rumours of a river
Where I may kneel on small rocks
And drink the blood of gods
Or baptize my life in water

The maps to this river were burned
By men drinking whiskey

And men who no longer drink whiskey
Labor without rest
To redraw the map from memory

I enjoy sitting long hours with
The men who burned the map

But I fear my age, new beard, and
An ancient lack of progress
May mean it is time, once again,
To walk with the disciples of lost memory

And struggle, with page and pen
To forget what can’t be forgotten
And remember what I never knew

It could be the time now
To labor at an unclear and
Indefinite task

Hoping to stumble upon a purpose
The purpose, my purpose
Or a reward, a restful period
Or a direction

The way to the rumoured river
The map may draw itself
Upon my page

The lines trapped in my pen
For my hand to free them

Then when the map is redrawn
I can leave the wandering and happy souls
And take the map to men with whiskey

I will trade it for idle peace
And drink their whiskey
While they burn my map

I can do all this, or stay here, now
The journey itself could be welcome change



Sonny Giordano, Valentine Media(c), 2010