Sunday, February 28, 2010

Fish Or Swords: The Podder's Tale.

I am as young as the River, rushing from spring to sea in a short half-handful of days.

I am as young as the River, but I have died many times.

They say we leave the River when the pod splits open and our bodies die - and we do not.

But we are in the River and the River is in us.

And you cannot leave the River, no matter what the parieurs say.

The burner stabs and sears and I am a coin falling through air, through water, though fire.

Fortune's coin, landing one side up or the other, fish or swords.

We come from the River, and go back to it.

Dip a bucket from the spring, from the flood, from the delta, and see the difference. Tip them back and try to find them.

I am not who I was. One day, I will not be who I am.

But for now, I skip across the surface, a fish that leaps and dives, now with and now against the current.

I am who I was. I will be who I am.

I will always be of the River.

However the coin falls.

Fish or swords.

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