They say there is an old, great river
Of shed and unshed tears, broken promises
Broken dreams
Self-loathing in essence and patronage
Many have drank from it
Swam in it
Sailed on it
Died by it
Ever-changing, ever-shifting
Every report of it in similar fashion
How odd
And deeply sad
That such a river is as subjective
As a glass of water
This river reminds me of
Something
A river of my youth and childhood, perhaps?
Yet I find them so distinct
As I drank from it
I would not be poisoned
As I swam in it
I would not drown
As I sailed on it
I would not wreck and sink
Certainly, they are quite different
Don't you want to see?
My childhood river is unlike
That sad, old river
Lets bathe in it, come join me
Let us embrace
The Nile
