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Where do the waters run when time has stood them still?
To hold within my mind, and keep this place that never was; that I could always drink my fill.
The waters of our life stream endlessly from the mountain to the plain, to lay upon its fertile soil and dissipate at will.

Such was but a moment, as the droplet settled upon the sand, to wink from existence as the sun set upon the fells.
Where the waters once swirled in the confluence of our creativity,
Lays barren a cracked bed of earth, a story in the tangled pattern it does tell.

You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters flow to the sea,
And footprints on the sand are washed away with the tide, as you were from me.
The abyss of lost opportunity and broken dreams; time has taken to its place of secrets the key.

Of softness they flow effortlessly, let still the waters of my heart and peace reside in equanimity.
Sweet cool memory, flows from my fingertips, of times before the storms lived effortlessly.
And as I close my eyes and call within my soul; a river from long ago, engulfing me mercifully.


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