The cool spring flows from the edge of the forged cliff. Refreshment that pours from the uneven land, enjoying your effortless current as it massages my ears, hearing the soundtrack of the rush of water that runs through my imagination. Once I could carry on about the faults of the world, the destruction of the land and the end of the earth -but as you dance with my soul and carry my impurities down the river; you recycle my uncertainty into a drop of hope that forms itself inside of a riverbed- flowing toward larger waters, distributing yourself to the world...
A perfect accident. As pure as the beauty that surrounds you. The green pastures stand still and admire; the dandelions bow over- as if to honor your strength as you flow. The gentle warm breezes passes through the untouched blades of grass; (Yes, there is more than just one pulse that flows from the earth) and reflect from the bright rays of the smiling sun. Rocks and canyon views surely go unseen by your haste toward the falls. Your color turns raging white with anticipation as you stumble through the solid boulders, sturdy in the rush and hustle, as you barrel by.
You form a white crest that blends as it bends against a blue sky, and similar to the clouds in color- but not in current. And as you fall, straight, sharp and swift, your strings are like angel's hair; so surreal. The foam at your base bellows a sound to that of constant thunder as you crash and splash down, but somehow -very peacefully. You complete your drop into the pool, that awaits your arrival. Settling softly. Quietly. The roar is distancing as the water returns to a more opaque; reflective state. Floating by. Sounds of settling creeks. Wilderness, and spring. The silent serene sounds of the forest, as the waterfall is now a distant memory.
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