The sound of the river haunts my day, for it is a symbol of eternity. We are born on the banks of a flow whose source is beyond our scope, ever in the middle of all that is happening. And when we go, sink into the soil that bore us, the river will continue on, and on, with an end that does not come. The sound of the river is enlightenment to those who would listen, however much you have travelled, or have stayed put: just put your ear to the wind where it has caught the streaming rush — do you not hear it? I am at once full of fear and hope, of joy and tragedy: the river need not heed that I exist at all, that I can find meaning to it all: the way I have followed its course as far as I could go, and seen what I have seen. The sound of the river is my believing in what is greater than I am, and none can achieve light in their souls without that call. Listen.
No Comments »
No comments yet.