I Am An Autodidact

I am an Autodidact
of written words.

Flowing prose from lips
that slip from depth to tongue.

Who knew the words would sliver
from North to South to West.

Forward on this journey
seems to be the East.

Fond of all the travels
as words form lines stacked together.

Grateful to be sitting here
out of stormy weather.

Cross another bridge
as river runs below.

Crest upon the mountain
to fire in the soul.

Ribbons tie to bows
of fragile days now lost.

Nevermind the value
or the power from the loss.

Scatter rocks upon the shore
as river travels on.

Sand will mix to seashells
lost inside the song.

Dance to fruit and pleasure
as I walk along the beach.

Waiting, always waiting
for the day when we shall meet.

Chips of broken shells
will slip into the ocean.

Bring me back to life
with words set into motion.