The Far Shore
The Far Shore writing stories

lindentrees I come from the Linden trees
Autoplay OFF   •   5 years ago
A poem about a journey. It even kind of rhymes.

The Far Shore

by lindentrees

In a raft, far out in the bottle green bay, I rise and fall with the water, like a sleeping person's rib cage.

Rocked by waves, I tuck myself into the hull. I put on my headphones and, the world around me becomes dull.

I travel through the dark behind my eyes, through mist and light and this morning's sunrise.

I go back farther and farther, growing distant from the harbor,

Until I am gone.

My footprints make bell noises as I walk across dark waters. The ripples turning over and over,

I am not here nor there. I feel I am everywhere and that I am no one.

I travel towards a shore, feeling a promise of peace. I am met with hazy clouds of chalky colours and my mortal desires leaving, being released.

I enter through the mouth of a river and follow it's winding throat. I end up in a forest's swamp, as far as possible from my boat.

I feel a tug on my soul as I keep up my pace. and my whole body is screaming that I shouldn't be in this place.

I find I have a coin in my hand as I walk further and further, and soon I am met with a walking partner.

He is old and frail and carries a paddle. He uses it on the water like a ladle.

He offers me to drink and my mouth won't open, he says to me my soul is not yet ripe and golden.

He says I can leave if I want but that the next time he won't be so kind. I ask who he is and he replies the drink I was right to decline.

Because he is the ferryman who provides passage, from the near to the far shore to souls who have perished.

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