Rushing River

Water rushing through the mountain valleys dragging every stone not firmly rooted, 

drowning just to resurface in an unknown region.

And before long, the current sweeps the few, back under its brute force again.

Never ending is this until the stone are buried; held down by the weight of the earth at rock bottom.

Too fearful to emerge again, too often content in its place.

Every river meets a calm source; the ocean, the sea, the lakes. Peace may be just around the bend.

But the stone held below the mighty river’s flow,

will in time be weathered down until it is nothing more than sand.

Sand that will only remember where it is now and what it has become,

not where it came from; a mountain.

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