At The Source Of The River Poem by Mark Heathcote

At the source of the river
I've questioned where you're at.
And I still don't know.
But my search isn't over, and there's no regret.
My soles won't be soiled when I've eventually learned to sit.
They'll be as clean as a cinder torched from under.
I've breathed in all the mugginess a monsoon can muster
But yet I know I've arrived home.

At the source of the river
Whenever I've fallen - I've been guided back to my feet.
Yes, I'll lift a dry rock and find the source of this water
And the last tear ever I cried thereunder
Soon as you've or I've discovered it
It will evaporate
But be right back where it started.
But be right back where it started at the source of the river.