Those Waters

I see the water, it flows and glistens, streaming over rock and under stone. Oh how free it is, I only wish that I could be so.

Free to move, and just as pure, this clear water who’s flow is all it knows. It does not wonder, it does not worry, it just goes and goes. Over rock and under stone, how free it is, how I wish that I could be so.

I see the water, it flows and glistens, streaming over rock and under stone. Oh how free it is, I only wish that I could be so.

I see myself, on those heights, arms out stretched over that rushing tumble, those white waters I envy so. I want to jump, to plunge and surrender, give myself to the flow that rushes over rock and under cold stone. So I jump and as I do, I realize my sin, my grave mistake.

I no longer see those waters, no longer clear, though they stream sill over rock and under stone, they are murky, with blood and bone.

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