By: Fergus Carty
Beneath the silent indifferent mountain is set its crib,
Where in some ancient time a luckless slope had slid,
The unremarked issue of a shallow dank smelling ditch,
Along untended, half-forgotten borders it opts to slip,
Among brown processing skeletons and fanning branch tips,
It flows on heedless that ever outward they marshal it,
In leaching rain a limestone open sore oozes choking grit,
And farm-yard run-off mingles slyly with eroding silt,
The stream rolls and slides, ducks beneath a broken bridge,
Where into swaying stands of rushes it crawls and limps,
Then bursts impatient and still tainted beyond the ridge,
Now rushing headlong down the short incline a-spill,
Bursting madly, briefly from between its earthen lips,
It shudders, stalls, and disappears amidst a greater swirl.
Fergus Carty
"The ultimate value of life depends upon awareness and the power of contemplation rather than upon mere survival."
-Aristotle
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