91 Kilometres to the Volta

I travelled 91km to the Volta,
on a whim—
for what?

Flirtatious curiosity,
or a search for self?

No.
I think it was more.

I came to see the Sun rise over the river,
its light glinting like glass,
creating a mirror
so I could look into my own eyes.

She held my gaze for a moment,
then let me go.

She was just being a river—
flowing.
I was just being the Sun—
shining,

absorbed in our eternal dance,
indifferently reflecting
the musings of a man

who chased curiosity to a river
he had no plans to drink from,

but its still surface revealed
the self
he travelled 91km to escape.

No more running.

O river Volta, part and let me cross—

or I will walk on water,

the remaining kilometre.