In The Styx

I took a dip in the river.

They told me it would make me 



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, 


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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