The River

Self-emptying, the stream creates itself and in the act of dying, gifts its ponderous deep with such a restive peace that there is drama in demise, the flight of years assuaged, a lifetime fed with just a single cause. The sojourner who pauses at the water's edge will see pretension vanish, see it carried on the surface of the river, sweeping by each obstacle like yesterday's detritus on its questing path through history to the unknown. It is a run to mock the flight of years and no assumptions can be made until the evidence is in... the sea spreads wide its arms, the river, alpha to omega sleeps. ~