If all my loves be rivers, then the landscape of my soul is ancient Sumer, a rich soil of sprawling floodland which feeds my ambitions and my most potent desires
If all my loves be rivers, then You, sir, are the arterial causeway of the whole spraying spigot.
You are the Nile, which overflows and destroys as much as it carries and creates. You are the Yhangtze. You are the Mississippi. In the middle of your route, you become the dead sea. I feel myself floating against you.
You are all rivers. But you are not the ONLY river.
And that is why I wonder about possible paths that might yet connect me back to you.
Even if you are not the river I choose to paddle.
Somehow I feel like you are the leafstem which grows tiny veins pushing outward on the leaf. Every line goes back to you.
Yeah. That's true.
River or leaf love or not my canoe comes back to the love I've sought.