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The River

I am a river: a winding deluge
that wanders through rocks and over mountains.

I travel through pastures and foreign lands
reaching outward towards the sea.

My fingers entwine the Earth, bringing life to the desert and quenching the thirst
of the undying bitter ends.

My ways are raging, forever slow.
I chisel at rocks and mountains,

carving out ditches made of milleniums, exposing the layers of humankind
for what they’re worth.

Can you tame me with a dam, or block my passages for long
with mere steel and concrete?

I will give you power for a time, but on a whim,
I will break free again.

Free from the turbines and spillways
I will surge over trees, and under caves,

turning the peaceful places white with adamantium foam.
I will erode the very foundations of the Earth.

Your home will plunge into the depths as surely
as the rough and chaotic surfaces of the rocks

will be made smooth and ordered.
And as the last translucent waves of glass

cover your face,
you will hear as a nuclear hum

the naiads singing, “oh, death where is thy sting?”
For there in the depths of my heart

you will not die.
You will be embraced by my arms as a lover.

And there you shall flow forever onward with me,
all the way from the tops of the mountains into the bottomless depths of the sea.