rishikesh, mountain stream

here the water quiets
from the chaos of birth
mother ice

sliding cold this river’s teal
quenching the half-found
cleansing the threadbare

running free with ash
and sins and a soul’s gold
to be redeemed

a silken road of
the lost and found
for our spirit’s breath

exfoliates our flaking mores
with her curative line
to a merciful sea

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