They say…

there’s a river that flows
from the far reaches of a soul
that winds its way
down down down
gurgling and dimpling
until it reaches the very sun
kissing myriads of stones along the way
until they are smooth,
worn and spotted with age
and its ceaseless caress
and still it flows
until it swallows the sun
and lies still and dark
lapping
at the roots of grass and trees
and reflecting all
but that which you would see.

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