The River ( an inspirational poem)
Over the river of no return, runs down through the wayward glen.
A country's choice, of its bad reflection, such, are the wages of sin.
The greatest directive, of its leadership, always at home begins,
The peoples' voice, to be unspoiled, on this proposition depends.
Democracy embraced by the common people, representative of all,
Devised by the wisest and most able of men, of the large and small.
As a spoiler, the wrongful entity weaves such a web of vile corruption,
A path that awaits the people, as prey, verges on its way to destruction.
The river runs its ranging course, from the hills down to its finest end,
Empties into its estuary of choice, as its pure waters and salt to blend.
If putrid remains are mixed in its run, the waters become too defiled,
The fish and creatures, on its purity, to depend, all soon become beguiled.
What is required of a people to gain, just what is left, what does remain,
As serving the few, those elite, no needs of the common people to meet?
The river decides the essence of all life, even the great, with little strife,
Destruction of all awaits in defeat, a river must serve each, to be complete.
In time the river's waters are pure, the process requires the help of everyone,
Each in their own way to serve all life, for our existence, must be soon begun.
The river of life nourishes all, is meant to be a provider of our life's procession,
A necessary redemption, to right the wrongs, rests within each's possession.
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