Will the river?
The river is ever there, transporting, carrying, never the same, ever the same. A log, a leaf, a canoe, a fish: it matters to the river not. The river laughs, the river cries, the river is silent power, the river babbles, the river roars. The river goes around obstacles, the river carries obstacles away, the river wears obstacles away. The river cuts the land, is contained by the land. Rock does not hold it back for long; the river thinks in eons. The river is docile, the river is angry, the river does not care but goes on. The river bows to what is lower, takes away the richness of the higher without a bended knee. The river is friend, the river carries us in our play and work, the river stands barring our way. Follow the river goes the song. The river will lead us to towns and cities and people because they all follow the river, too. The river will lead us to the sea—or used to, before we started taking all of its water away. Where has the river gone? Will the river be ever there?
:- Doug.
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