After writing an article; The Art of Silence, and upon further reflection, I penned the following poem. In light of the books and music I have been indulging in of late; this took the poem down a darker path, than initially intended.
everybody should be quiet near a little stream where the wild roses grow and just listen down to the river we ride be silent, listen to your heartbeat take my hand, I'll take yours to much madness and sorrow the loudest words are not spoken living in this age of rage down to the river we go walking towards the light this beautiful place wearing many guises sending me down the river tonight my baby and I the river runs clear in the night no words needed to uncover an ability to let things go take solace in the silence an inner absence of preoccupation masks the hidden messages of compliance do you know where the wild roses grow down by the river together you may get away baptised in the river cleansed be delivered
© 2016 Michael D Emmerich
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