River Of Thought Poem by Marlin Nightingale

The river of my thoughts may seem,
A whirlpool of confusion,
No answer will my poor brain deem,
As quite the right solution.

The forests of emotion stand,
Upon this river shore,
They may be solemn, stiff, and bland,
Or happy to the core.

The sturdy planet earth below,
Supports these parts of man,
It is predictable and slow,
Conforming to the plan.

So when the river, angrily,
Is dashed upon the rocks,
It rises past its normal height,
Into the grove of oaks.

The trees already whipped by wind,
Of terrible circumstance,
Are now aflood with water from,
The stream of ignorance.

The forest of emotion, cries,
At every hardship found,
Until at last it finds relief,
In clinging to the ground.

And we, the man in which these things,
Are often taking place,
Oft wonder why confusion brings,
A haunting empty space.