The Flowing River Of The Times..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the way to write it is to follow the flow of the flowing river.
it sways its way like a long brown snake along the sides of the mountain where on its cliffs flies high the bald eagle trying to figure out the meaning of heights.

below these cliffs are the preys of the hungry times, chickens and wingless birds, those singing worms after the drizzle of change.

the lifeless bodies of fallen leaves floats on the silky skin of these rivers running across countries of Asia and winding itself finally to the mindless ocean that owns the biggest mouth of history swallowing all. both stupid and wise, and then all gone.