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.