Here, a man stands at a river,
Gazing upon the souls that drift on by.
Continuing the man's journey, he trembles past the shores
Of the lost who left little light in their legacy.

The man fishes at the river,
Watching while others' dreams drift on by.
Continuing his activities, he feels sorrow
While the river's rapid streams reap the wickeds' rewards.

The man gazes at the river,
Thinking as others' thoughts drift on by.
Continuing his brooding, he is dumbfounded
As the river cuts like a slithering serpentine scimitar.

The man lies at the river,
Feeling the current invite him by.
Continuing his fearing, he shudders
Peering as the prideful river preys on perverted minds.

The man stands with his back to the river,
Hearing the screams of those who are lost drift by.
Continuing his odyssey, he ignores
The river under which the usurpers of unification underly and utterly wail.

The man walks away from the river,
Swallowing his own suffering as it drifts by.
Continuing his tread, he walks
As the river deals devastation and death on the despairing.