The River

 

The River

 

It begins as rain,

A storm of ill tidings comes from thin air.

Ominous thunder, echoes, continuously.

 

A perennial typhoon, remembered, but not expected.

Winds of the past joining winds new to the world.

 

Then a dirty trickle

Running through gullies, down a mountainside.

Gravity alone sustains the flow.

Curling around rocks and tree stumps.

Converging together, slowly growing.

 

Through the passage of an instantaneous eon,

A powerful river has formed.

No more obstacles withstand the flow,

churning, constantly, toward an unseen goal.

Mist shrouds its banks like a horse's blinders.

 

The shrouded river moves ever onward.

Carving away its very base.

Widening, slowing, stretching thin.

But another dawn appears ahead,

Through the ever present mist.

 

Momentum carries water into the sky,

Joining water and air for one brief moment.

A swift cascade onto the rocks.

Rocks are quickly ground to sand and carried onward.

And still the mist shrouds.

 

Through the rapids now,

Hasty moments of indecision.

A storm of terror and apprehension,

tension tearing the world apart.

And still the mist shrouds.

 

Then into a winding gait.

Slowly through peaceful valleys.

Finally reaching a seaside beach.

Here the sands of the journey are left behind

in favor of the playful waves.

 

This journey never ends.

The rains will return again,

Following those that have passed before.

Bringing new lands to old.

An adventure never ending, through the mist.