River of Love

Let us drift down river you and I
On the flood, effortlessly

We’ll sweep beyond the places we passed
When we rowed upstream adventurously

We’ll slow and look aghast at the over-hanging branches
The Tacksman’s tree at last is hanging lifelessly

The bark on its back ripped-off like rags and flowers
Nakedly searching for a soteriology

Lest we shake our heads and wonder why
Rather we should cry and laugh at all this madness

Fated and blessed to explore like virgins, our
(while the others stayed safe and ashore)

surging sinners’ nemesis, consumed by flood
Drifting downstream on that river of love