Through these caverns
An echo mourns
The passing of a life
Wrought with hope
And the illusion
Of significance
A wordless meaning
Left hanging on
The final stroke
Of a pen
That still bleeds
Even without
The hand
To release
Its suffering
Some Things Never Die
The Stories In Between 
This has made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, River. Absolutely beautiful, and strangely comforting as I have just lost a friend. I can hear that echo now.
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Thanks, Alli!
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The pen does still bleed 😦
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Always.
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Great one!
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Thanks, Bojana.
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Love it!
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Thanks, Rita!
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Beautifully penned ❤
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Thank you, Penny.
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💜🦋
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Thanks for reading, Jen.
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You’re welcome 🙂
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This is a stellar.
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Thank you.
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Beautiful.
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Thank you.
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I think what I most want out of my writing is to be remembered, even if only one person in a hundred years stumbles across something I’ve written and finds something meaningful in my words.
Your words will live on, River.
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I hear you. It’s not so much that I have a desire to be remembered, but to leave something of value behind. Like you said, even if it’s just one person.
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This piece touched me… just what I needed to read today. Thank you for sharing your words with us. My heart. Ughhh. My heart.
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Tara, when I read this piece, I thought it was written just for you.
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It definitely met me right where I’m at. But I often am touched hardcore by River’s work. He’s an amazing writer and all around great person.
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Thanks a lot, Tara.
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“And the illusion
Of significance”
How powerful!
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Thanks, Sam.
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I can see a bleeding heart…
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I can feel one…
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Yes, maybe the energy, vibrations and frequencies of our lives and words survive after we die!
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It’s nice to think people will still be saying that I suck long after I’m dead!
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This gave me goosebumps 😅
Great work 👌👌
With few words you expressed a lot 🤗🤗
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Thank you!
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Reading this evoked chills and moans, awe and surprise and a whispering ululation in my heart! Beautiful and heart-rending.
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Thank you very much!
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Loveeee it! ❤️
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Thank you!
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That ending is remarkable!
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Thank you.
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some things are eternal…and we can always feel them….their touch ..their sound…their presence…and all such small large things…that really makes a great difference❤
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Thank you very much for reading and the insightful comment.
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Wow – great poem, is what we leave who we are?
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Possibly. I guess we better be careful what we leave behind, huh?
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Yeah, good point.
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River, I know I’m not in your league of writers, but when I get a like from you, I feel like maybe I could be
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I appreciate the compliment, but there is really nothing special about what I do. We’ll just keep writing, that’s about all we can do.
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Amazing Post
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Thank you.
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You are welcome
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Fantastic👌
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Thank you.
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Always a sense of anticipation on reading you, River – your use of words define you – a writer who can move. All the best, Eric.
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Thanks, Eric.
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Reblogged this on http://www.fabricthatmademe.com and commented:
I love this poem. Maybe it’s because I relate to the passing away part… maybe it’s because somethings I’ve chosen in my life I know will never die. Writing and leaving my mark on this world with my art will be here after I am gone. The joy, the pain, the memory and experience will be here even when I am not for the read to bear.
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I hope it’s okay but I had to reblogged this. It touched me so much! Like dancing on paper… in words. It’s just perfect.
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Sure, thank you. I appreciate the reblog.
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It feels sad but sounds beautiful. I love it!
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Thanks, Priscilla.
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Illusion of significance, indeed.
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I actually take some comfort in that. I don’t want the responsibility of being significant.
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I think I want some benefits. 🙂
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