The River Of Life Poem by Marlin Nightingale

Yes the river, ever rushing,
On it's boundaries always pushing,
Leaping, scrambling, onward surging,
Swiftly moving, onward lurching.

Boulders, stones, it slaps, it pushes,
At some tree roots grabs-then rushes,
Moss and logs to join the fray,
Twisting, twirling on their way.

Calming eddies, raging rapids,
Temper showing; smooth and placid,
Cooling waters, seething spray,
Plumes that sparkle with the day.

Lifting hope to sun-parched land,
Giving beasts the strength to stand,
Giving life where death's firm grip,
Pulls the breath from dying lips.