Pilgrims of Death (MS)

The river listens to the forest's heart beat

A prayer of rhythmic silence, 

the march of morning.  


The river flows its usual path

past where memories are, 

past moments of a monk's life that

still wash downstream

centuries after the day of his dying.


The river wants to feel life

but knows Heaven will not grant it.  


It knows infinity

unlike any man or woman 

who comes to its shore. 

They are just pilgrims of death

walking to their foolproof destiny.

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