I know this river.
It flows up from there down to here,
and slips around to the other side.
I have skipped stones at its banks,
and pulled branches from its currents,
drew pictures in its muddy shore.
I know this river, and it Knows me.
It calls to me from distant places, it
remembers my name, and sings to
me in my dreams.
This river speaks to me from oceans and
lakes. I hear its voice in my sink,
it song in my tub, it whispers to me
in my morning shower.
This river knows me, and I know this river.
It called to me as a boy and
it calls to me as a man.
This river and I flow together,
seperate and meet again.
I know this river, and it knows me.
This river is my soul.