The River Violet
I walked upon the River Violet one day and sat down.
Its flow was soft, slow, beckoning,
it’s water catching sunbeams
in a beautiful crystalized purple,
turning everything that ran through
the most luminous shades of periwinkle and lilac,
its violaceous essence pulling and drawing me near,
like a bird song so lovely it tugs at the heart string,
and slowly I step in.
My toes turn to lavender as its waters gently tumble past,
a tingling heat spreading despite the sharp, brisk flow,
and I see ahead an eddy,
its swirls an image of something familiar but can’t recall,
and like a purple blue magnet it summons me,
until I am peering into its deepness.
What I see makes me gasp.
Fire, Violet Fire, beneath this waters depth!
Amythist flames rising and falling,
like its very own breath taking in liquid air,
a lava lamp of…
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