In The Styx
I took a dip in the river.
They told me it would make me
invulnerable,
invincible.
But they lied.
In fact I was accident prone.
Scrape after scrape,
fall after fall,
that was my experience
of living my life.
But I always survived
until now
when I’m standing
waiting for the ferryman
to take me across the river,the same river,
perhaps,
or maybe not
I forget.
Perhaps he’s already been
and taken me to Lethe
by mistake.
I forget.
My memory doesn’t flow
as swiftly as it used to.
Perhaps it clogged
when he let me sink
into the mud of the marshland
on another wrong turning.
But I’ll stand and wait
a little longer.
This time
I know
I must cross
and give up my soul
to eternity.
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