From misty mountains,
Through steep ravines,
Around massive boulders,
And over the green plains,

A river flows to ocean.
River, A unity of tiny droplets.

But does it?
Do they?

You could be picked up,

Find yourself in a bathtub,
Playing with a smiling toddler,
Then discarded into a garden,
And end up in a Lucius mango!

Or,

End up in the veins of a person,
Strapped in to a chair,
And watched by a panel who,
Would solemnly mark down,
The time of their last breath!