Late Last Song

The river flows, and one day
It will carry us away –
And so it goes, through seasons,
Far beyond the given day

And it’s not habit, penchant, nor
Our customary stance
That turns us into who we are
It’s chance and circumstance

I do not cross the river
For it’s not my time to go;
I stay here on the banks, withal
My sorrow and my woe

My place is with this moment, and
The reasons there supplied:
I cannot see beyond the banks
Nor glimpse
The other side

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