The river flows endlessly droning on In its never ending song Roaring like a train As I flys with the grain Rumbling swishing flowing As one, accepting each drop, growing
The river splashes against the rock The stationary weight Pulled down by its heavy burdens The roaring rivers freight
They are seperate elements Toghether in the stream The river a gentle blue gasp of life A crowd of laughing joy The rock a heavy grey sorrow Pushing around the crowd Cracks from the ages Of river sweeping around Now and then harsh or gentle Waves lap against the rock Smothing holes or cracking edges Slowly wearing it down Yet never joining For they are seperate elements.
Repost if you ever feel like the rock in a river bed, neither with or against the crowd, simply there, forgotten yet constant. Slowly gaining cracks as your weighted down by the past.