It is the only one that shares my energy. I am the only one that shares theirs. A babbling brook that sings to everyone and everything around it. One that sweeps you off your feet. That flares up if it hits a problem, refusing to calm down and wash away. From the trail we can hear it, but others just move on and ignore the joy.
Its energy is its weapon. It wears through everything, and displays tremendous power. It surges forth and tears down rock and cuts a channel through and never quits its motion.
Let it forget its reason for being, and it would dry up and slip away like raindrops in a desert. Move, move, move rivers say when I sleep. They power me. When I am too tired and sad to keep moving, when I am a slow slug against so many beetles, then it is I look at streams. When there is too much stuff to deal with. One that surges forth despite those that slow it down. One that moves and does not forget to move. One whose only reason is to move and sing.
|My daughter came up with the line, when I am a slow slug against so many beetles. :-)|
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