Today it is enough simply to glide silently by.
Maybe tomorrow it will roar, gorged with rain.
Confused and wild.
The green branches of trees bend over in a protective embrace. Today, the water is content to be here, passing gently through this wood, but water is ancient. It has cycled through ages and seasons, alternately ascending in the exhalation of evaporation, and descending in a free fall of rain. It has known the splash of children’s fingers, the cleaving of the explorer's prow, the joy of the thirsty wanderers, and it remembers the shadow of the Devine breath in the darkness before there was light. When it too knew the darkness and safety of a womb.
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