And Still, the River Moves

And the moon, and the mist, and the murmuring trees,
And the wind that remembers, whistles, and grieves,
All gather at dusk (as if keeping watch),
And whisper of time… of touch… of loss.

The water runs—(or maybe it dreams)—
and shivers, and shines, and scatters its gleams,
and I run beside it and think and forget and remember again and—
yes—again, because life is a rush (and a push) and a shush and a roar,
and I can’t tell which I am anymore…

The sky falls open—stars like seams undone—
light leaks through and the night begins to fight,
and everything breathes and breaks and becomes,
and I… I just stand (half in the dark, half in moonlight)…

And the moon, and the mist, and the murmuring trees—
they lean toward the river, and so do I, and—
and still—it moves…

Where the devices appear:

Polysyndeton: (repeated use of “and”/other conjunctions) “And the moon, and the mist, and the murmuring trees…” / “and I run beside it and think and forget and remember again…”

Ellipsis: (intentional omission or pause with “…”) “… of touch… of loss.” / “and I… I just stand…”

Run-on sentences: (flowing beyond normal stops, mimicking emotional overflow) The long flow in stanza two mirrors emotional urgency and fluid thought.

Parentheses: (inserting side thoughts) Side musings like “(as if keeping watch)” and “(and a push)” deepen intimacy.

Parataxis: (juxtaposing phrases/clauses without clear subordination) Independent clauses laid side by side—“light leaks through and the night begins to fight, and everything breathes and breaks and becomes…”