man at the river

below him was the river. where the rock had parted it around him. vapor rose in the early summer afternoon as he stood on the bank. the spray around him was finer and enclosed him in a halo of himself. the halo of himself was always there. and always disappearing. the images of himself and his shadow kept disappearing into the rising mist of the river. it continually circled to the tops of the rockface that stretched high above him. he always felt small in the canyon. with the cool breeze dancing down the canyon and bounching off its walls. allowing his head to rock back slowly the last of the sunrays cracking down caught his face. he felt euphoric. alone. weightless. perfectly still and at peace with the world around him.

he sat down to forget. and no sooner all was forgotten until all that remained was the river that went by and him who watched. it felt as if the water carried away his thoughts and emotions. the hypnotising sound of running water that took his thoughts to a far-off place. on the river the heat mirages danced. first with each other. then through each other until they finally joined hands and danced around each other. he stood up. took off his clothes and waded into the river. he wanted to dance with them. he thought if only he could join them. but there was only one. it was the river. he continued to imagine the patterns from his own life joining with them. and so it happen that here the story of his life started. naked. in the middle of the sound of water and the sensation of the passing water over his bare skin. he stood there in the middle of the current. imagining the water eroding away the person he once was. taking with it the memories he no longer had interest to hold on to.

many of the people he cared for and that understood him had moved on. when he was young he played on these river banks with his brother. they spent days and afternoons exporing every corner of this canyon. perhaps that was what drew him back here in the first place. to find something he had lost a long time ago. and to recapture what he had traded it for. in the half-light of the canyon all existence faded. standing there he raised his arms and closed his eyes. to a place of being with his soul and memories and the sounds of the river and the rhythm of his pounding heart.

eventually all things merge into one and a river runs through it. the river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. on some of the rocks are timeless tears. under the rocks are the words. words spoken in time. words that echo and drift with the breeze down the canyon. words that shape and change. words that remember and forget. and some of the words are theirs.

i am haunted by waters.