That Old River

i used to think i could fly and tame a raging fire
so i toed the edge of a cliff after setting the world ablaze
bridges burning, ties snapped, and cloudless caramel cutoff
i realized how dangerous it is to house a flame without a trough.

i used to think i could love without ever wanting more
so i put my heart in a box; it sank in the nearest river
captured heart i soon had to rescue but i couldn’t break the brown
i learned that soaked wood never dries after being drowned.

i used to believe i was good and lived a life lacking lies
but wood rots and humid hearts long for
cooler climates
so thrown to the clouds where i was shown crystal frozen water
but i soon discovered the beautiful drops only reminded me of the river.

i know i used to wish for a life of oceans, cloud, and crystal
where a heart always dry could be free to roam the entirety of the world
and with that freedom experience and learn the secrets knowledge gives
then rest knowing i had loved the life i lived

so why am i stuck with a key to a box that i can’t seem to find anywhere?
why does my mind consistently return to the memories of last summer?
but most of all, why do i still yearn to return my heart to that old river?