Stream
Confluence is the coming together of two streams. Two streams of different origin flowing together to become an inseparable flow as one. One stream cannot choose the other. It cannot resist the other or escape it. It is forced to undo itself, its very fabric and being, to unite with the other; completely losing its own identity. Despite this, I find myself in a rush, like a stream flooding over rocks and boulders, smooth and shaped by my torrent to reach the stream that flows parallel to me. A stream from such a distant source than my own, yet I know that together we could shape such a riverbed with our combined currents that we would not feel encroached upon nor feel as though we had become a nondescript version of ourselves, drowning in the wake of another. We would feel the wholeness and be able to breathe as one. Oh yes, a stream can drown. If you know how to look, and how to listen. You can see the droplets, though they be many and form themselves into splashes, as they try to escape the rush and reach for the warmth of the sun and the breath of fresh air. You can hear the gargle of the streams as they push on, hiding their quiet struggles. There is indeed a silent kinship between the water and the wind; and it is the younger of the droplets that skim the surface of the stream, unaccustomed to holding their breath below. The elders are those, who have been a long time with their newly wed stream from afar, and they surf the bottom of the river, shaping the earth as a riverbed that those in their wake may ride behind them. Perfecting its form selflessly. Selflessly, because they shall never make waves upon these shores again. These banks shall lay behind them, subject to streams apart from their own.
And so the quiet rush it is, as we all come together selflessly; for without choice of path, we must be as water and hold our breath to shape the soil below for the streams that came behind us. It is only in this manner that we can unite with our streams in love, and be able to expect in return that others shall one day learn to hold their breath for us when we need to ascend to the surface once again. To breathe in renewed life. Or, perhaps, try to escape from the drowning.
Is it not so easily done - that we can find ourselves in the end no more than another droplet in this vast ocean, yet still maintain and trust a hope that others may be down below struggling upon the ocean's floor... for the silent, rippling memory of our flows? Our past union upon confluence.
My life is but a stream, even now we have laboured and together found this ocean... where, it seems, we have lost one another in waves within waves.
If once our life was truly one, and you had let yourself go to join with me, then you will know where to find me. Flowing for you, in this stream within a stream.
Inspired by the 'Memoirs of a Geisha' soundtrack and film.
And so the quiet rush it is, as we all come together selflessly; for without choice of path, we must be as water and hold our breath to shape the soil below for the streams that came behind us. It is only in this manner that we can unite with our streams in love, and be able to expect in return that others shall one day learn to hold their breath for us when we need to ascend to the surface once again. To breathe in renewed life. Or, perhaps, try to escape from the drowning.
Is it not so easily done - that we can find ourselves in the end no more than another droplet in this vast ocean, yet still maintain and trust a hope that others may be down below struggling upon the ocean's floor... for the silent, rippling memory of our flows? Our past union upon confluence.
My life is but a stream, even now we have laboured and together found this ocean... where, it seems, we have lost one another in waves within waves.
If once our life was truly one, and you had let yourself go to join with me, then you will know where to find me. Flowing for you, in this stream within a stream.
Inspired by the 'Memoirs of a Geisha' soundtrack and film.