Flush It Out

To flush forth the riddled past,
Purging for the demanding present.

To flush with rushing waters,
And feel their streaming passage,
Whoosh with hope.

Let the fluids make their way,
Through clammy corridors,
Plagued pastures,
And locust dens,
To the awaiting exit.

Out it surges,
Blackly cluttered at first,
Squirming with gaseous debris,
Then lightening,
Into a clear and unassuming,
Purity.