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Oct 2014
The river has no purpose,
no life or feeling.
No meaning, no dreaming,
Nothing with meaning.

What then is the point of this river that trots,
Erodes rocks,
Splashes rapids that flow to a stop?

The river moves.
No do, no see, no be.
The river moves.
No different from you or from me.
Written by
Nikhil Chauhan
3.1k
   Frances Marie
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