22/04/2026
๐๐๐ง๐๐ฅ๐๐ฅ๐ฌ | ๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ง๐
By the riverbend, I see the water
like a mirror, ebbing away forward
The fishes are dancing in it
And the cranes skedaddling over
Behind me, a little church is cradled
by the rolling hills, verdant as ever
Its little bells humming softly
The song of the journeymanโs trek
As I walk, feeling to my bones
the wondrous miracles around me
I remember the days of how
Such things seem to be foreign
The factories were my bassinet
Its putrid air my iron lungs
Chemicals flow as if itโs the Seine
And a gang of carcass were my zoo
As I feel the grass on my feet
The prickling of a thousand needles
I began to savor the moment's sweetness
Myself, free from that nightmare
Hope fuels me to stay alive
That there is more good than bad
Though ugly some things may be
Beauty still hides in the most unassuming
A journal is fixed by my hands
As I sketch and try to etch
The euphoric spark of it all
A testament to the great beyond
The little bells called out again
Its sound still travelling a thousand
I cannot ignore it no more
For the Fates resigned me to this
As I hop, bop, and trop the road
Iโm back to where I started in kirsch
For what is a journeymanโs destiny
If thereโs nothing at all in the first place
Content | Paul Corral
Illustration | Antoinette Gendran