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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.

— The End —