I drift, I dream

It’s hard to say where I begin in terms of time.
Some even use me as a way to understand how living flows away and yet will always be.
I am at once my source and my conclusion. My essence stretches out complete.
No part of me is seen to be more valid, or more recent, than another.
I draw myself together from beneath and all around, my substance rising up from living earth.
I bubble and I chatter as I start out on a journey which itself defines my form.
No sooner have I begun, than I have finished. No sooner have I finished, than I have begun.
There is a finishing in my beginning and a beginning in my finishing.
And all the rest in between gives the impression of permanence, but can never remain the same, even for a second.
I trade my primal purity for a growing sense of weight and force, as I absorb the teachings of the times through which I live.
Streams of consciounsess swell my understanding as I allow myself to become the offspring of the place where I belong.
The fluids surge within and I barely can contain my own strength. You’d think twice before crossing me.
Muddied now, broadminded and more calm, I still retain that freshness at my core, feeding into me from a higher level.
I open up under the sky so vast and lie drifting on in perfect rest and motion without cease.
I feel the tingling of my utmost points in vales and hills remote.
I sense the lives within me, separate and yet not, our purposes entwined within the whole.
I lap it up, the deepest dream of being what I know I was and am.
The rain falls into me, turns into me, as I will turn one day to rain.
And as I reach my greatest point, my destiny fulfilled, I am absorbed into the sea of all.
Winds blow, clouds form – the stuff of life has rearranged.
And here I am again, where once I did awake.
I never lived. I never died. I simply am. A river.