The Waterfalls
I hear the waterfalls.
The powerful rumbling drowns out those memories -
Memories of regret and calamities.
I hear the trees.
The crisp rustling of the leaves whisper over my thoughts,
As they try to rationalize the consequences I’ve bought.
I hear the rain.
Every fall invades my conscience.
Each drop a welcoming interruption.
Finally, I hear the wind.
It howls in agony and in disgust,
Making me shameful of my deceit and lust.
It does not hide those memories, those regrets I must haul.
So I turn away and run right back to the waterfalls.