Black River

Still searching for my way, the right way to be

Still pondering what I've done

I'm still thinking what I've said

Still finding from within

And all that I know is still not enough

I'm being held by the one shadow tormenting my soul

The curving neck of the swan

The slow turning of a bird's head

So white its plumes and feathers

Its breast like the moon in water

Silent and tranquil it moves

On the river in the calm

I wander back on familiar roads

I sense the marks I left on the hills

I see the cuts and wounds of my deeds

They make me muse on life

Up the hill and the mountain

I look back, I look down

There flows the River of Death

And here, the wind in my hair