the River of forgetfulness

At times, I wish to disappear

like an ancient myth,

wandering in books,

unaware of its touch.

At times, like the withering foliage…

Untouched, crumpled, and gone…

At times like the winds, which no one can see…

At times like the heartbeats,

existing in bosoms yet can only

be felt with pressed hands… and someday,

if I do manage to become an air of

senselessness,I would tap and tap like

rain on the coffin of my own mortality.

~Channing M.