How calm the river runs,
Smooth like a motionless whisper,
A solid body feeding the banks,
The floating ducks, the fish for
Generations of serenity
Washing the world clean.
Gently it carries its work within itself:
An effortless home to the unseen
Moving forward to the rocky ledge
Gray stones cutting into tranquility
With immovable sharpness
Razor ridges slicing instability,
Chaos, and unrest, forcing commotion
Falling, tumbling, weeping down the face
Of mineral declines, splashing and gasping,
Losing its stillness, finding its place
In turbulent paces somewhere
Beyond the struggle.
Mirror surfaces giving birth
To the waters troubled,
But the ancient stones erect,
Surrounded by their daughters,
Overgrown with algae and inertia,
Purify the troubled waters.
viewingcamelot 
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