Die Moldau

two streamlets gurgling through your woodwind notes

oh Smetana - it was our lives you wrote

and life is dreaming - who can stop the flow

or channel the direction it will go?

a river - traveling faster by the minute

gathering our existences within it

some will sound the horn - and choose their fate

while others paddle and procrastinate

the river passes rites - when humans come

like streamlets - finding unity as one -

in moments celebrated in a dance -

so joined two lives grow stronger and advance

through evening's argent path - where far-off stars

remind the wise how transient they are

for trials will rise from which they cannot flee

while facing rapids of adversity

at last the river meets its resting place -

swept into the ocean's interface

where sunlight draws its moisture - forming rain -

enabling tiny streams to flow again

we too must be recycled in our role

as players in this earth's vast living whole

becoming part of all we've ever known

like dandelions before the seeds have blown

© Hazel Hall

31 July 2012