Flood Waters

Sometimes, life seems like a symbolic, seething Parallel 

to the mighty Mississippi after a rabid spring, when the waters swell, 

and then flee the banks so trusted to route the chaos.

Chaos; an assassin in the night- you never really see it coming, 

and by the time you realize the gravity of the situation, 

You’ve taken on too much water- well past the mayday hour.

The floods care not what they trample down, 

much as the world does, though you may sometimes feel lead in the roll 

of the sacred hunted; Pigeon-holed.

They will roll and pull you under, sweeping you, drowned, 

into Oblivions Sea with the many other millions who believed

the tides would never catch up, or change their direction.

So often we drag the waters for our dead,

 just to give them back to the depths and the warning,

forget; never mind the vultures that circle just about our heads.

So often we seek the one on the white horse with the muddy feet,

 or a snow white queen to whisk us away from the darkness 

-should the waters ever recede

Sometimes,it seems the waters are here to stay, 
the second coming of wrath, and you’re far, far to late to save the day

-failing all so humanly the same to realize or heed our elder’s advice- 

that had we stood to confront the floods we might not be salvaging wreckage

beneath the damage done- everything is erased.