River of Being

Thou seest this river, this wild, untamed thing, and it is so like our existence. It tumbles and churns, a restless spirit, much as we do, though perhaps with less angst. It carves its path through stone, a slow, insistent power, much like resolve that shapes a soul. Sometimes it rushes, a furious torrent, all spray and thunder, and I think, “Aye, that’s the fire of ambition, the sheer oomph of wanting something grand”. Then it broadens, calms, reflecting the sky like a polished mirror, and my heart feels a whisper of peace. Thou canst see the debris caught in eddies, the flotsam of our days – fleeting thoughts, forgotten toys, a stray, perhaps a tad of shenanigans. And yet, the river flows on, indifferent, forever moving towards that vast, unknown sea. Is that not us, too? Forging ahead, leaving the ripples behind, carrying the detritus of our journeys, all the while reaching for that ultimate, boundless expanse. It’s kinda wild, when thou really thinkest about it.


Stephie


*Upon yonder photograph, you shall behold my kinswoman, one named Marta.