The River

The river flows it’s timeless stream,

Down on through young childhood’s dream,

Memories made in the solace of the moment,

Whence comes the chance to release their scent,

And blow their healing over troubled years,

Giving new hope in the well of fear,

And building on the light within to burn the lamp of life.


Roots are where my passion lies,

Given the gift to light the fires,

That once burned bright in dawning heart,

Dancing flame piercing through the dark,

Of the world of older sensibility,

Pushing heart and mind to normality,

To understand, to know and to realise,

How longer time affects the soul.


Wherefore, say I, can early spirit,

Flourish within a youthful lyric,

To joyfully wander through open field,

Not caring what the world may yield,

And dancing to the tune of life,

Where world is mine and free of strife,

I dive on into the crystal waters,

And let them hold me close.


To know one day when I am older,

And time on me has played it’s joker,

That, even now, within my ailing heart,

An age-old glow gives off a glistening spark,

Of the self-same love that made the river king,

And gave me desire to reach out to everything,

Comforts me when long years pass me by,

Secure to know that I am now what I have always been.

Peter Christian Elmvang  1993


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