Erosion
life is a river,
It flows and halts for no one.
But what befalls the fate of the stones it erodes and leaves behind,
The stones wait under the decomposing flow,
for that part of the stream to come back, knowing it won't,
But the river carries parts of them that they don't desire any other thing to have.
So those lonely stones stay in that same spot,
Waiting.
Until the rest of the river brings them to nothing,
the river will never realize,
How the stones felt when it flowed away with parts of them,
And how long they lingered for them to come back,
So I wait under the flow,
Each second taking more out of me.
Thinking that this river would change direction,
and go my way,
you towards me...
life is a river,
It flows and halts for no one.
But what befalls the fate of the stones it erodes and leaves behind,
The stones wait under the decomposing flow,
for that part of the stream to come back, knowing it won't,
But the river carries parts of them that they don't desire any other thing to have.
So those lonely stones stay in that same spot,
Waiting.
Until the rest of the river brings them to nothing,
the river will never realize,
How the stones felt when it flowed away with parts of them,
And how long they lingered for them to come back,
So I wait under the flow,
Each second taking more out of me.
Thinking that this river would change direction,
and go my way,
you towards me...
~A poem by Rachel Pao-Wen Wey
