Empty Streams

There is a river whose streams shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High. Psalm 46:4

Two streams amble down a nodding knoll
and cheerfully I would journey both.
A single voyager, now quite whole
and gaze downhill to the ending goal;
to where they join in an overgrowth.

Together at early dusk they flow;
as waves prepare, paddle quickly past.
A sunset surplus on water’s glow;
I’m frayed on just which way to go
unsure how lengthy the waters last.

I may guess life’s ending question ‘why’?
Deep and wide the wintry water’s swell;
somehow long years do pass me by.
With weighty relief I reveal a sigh;
both passages one may surely dwell.

P. Wolf; author & poet

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