Transit Poetry Lethe
I am the bloody river down below
That carries all the ashes of lost lives
Fed with joy and harm my floods do grow
A fifth season out of it will contrive
Breathe in the scent of Hades' land
And drift away in Lethe's waves
Taken home by divine hands
Where unique souls are dreaming brave
In which slight repose swim all these faces
That travel homewards free and cursed
And follow my ardour to distant places
Nascent am I in thy fearful thirst
One step more and your identity gets lost
With gentle waves the fragile body will be swept away
One step for a fusion at your souls cost
In gentle streams tomorrow it will be the former day
