The Rivers
Bold, wide, and gently rolling or narrow, crisp, and clear,
rushing over bedrock. Broad shouldered to carry the burden
of the depths, or lithe and athletic, coursing swiftly down a
stream. Men stand and gaze transfixed by the timeless
rippling and unfolding of your waters.
The Rivers
Provider of food and bounty. Transporter of goods and
people. Pathway toward dark, uninhabited places.
Prime mover of the soil. Your course and banks perpetually
changing, birthing lowlands and broad deltas. Seeker
of lower elevations and home of deep wellsprings.
The Rivers
You bequeath the gifts of the waters from your eternal flow
to the veins and arteries of all life on earth. You are the
medium of cool, molten flow; a go-between from modest rivulet
to vast sea or ocean abyssal. Your soul composes the antiphonal
music of the waterfall and rain bearing cloud. Motion is the
purpose of your existence or eventually, all life perishes.
The Rivers
Men seek more than your bounty. They crave more than a
quick drink of your cooling waters, hoping to slake a passing
thirst. Our souls yearn for more than adventure along your realms.
We long to meld our spirit with yours; and in doing so, to feel eternal.
The Rivers
7-31-14
Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015
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