wisdom
a river begins, such a gentle little trickling thing, oozing from a wetland drop by drop, or welling mysteriously from a cool spring,
sliding over smooth stones,
hopping down waterfalls, slipping through a silent valley,
through the rocks, beneath the trees, joining other streams, gathering volume, spreading over gravel under great cliffs, slowing down and swaying round long bends, eventually yawning into lazy sandbanks and the sea. entire mountains were above us once, the water has removed them all, carving the very hills it flows through, moving a million million tons of soil and sand, eating whole continents,
eternally pouring them into the ever-thirsty oceans of the world
A POEM BY JOHN ROFF
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