"I went down to the river"

I went down to the river one afternoon, down to the waters cold as ice and old as time. I went to drink, and I went to know. Kneeling down I took a moment and I peered at the stream, and watched it course, ripple, bubble, turn and shift as it went. Cupping both hands I scooped a portion of its life and I drank. I drank and drank again. But nothing came to me. I looked at my hands, and just wondered at them. I scooped once more but this time I let the water seep through my fingers. I watched this, the waters freeing themselves of me, returning to stream. So it was that I realised that I came for the wrong reason. I had asked the wrong question. Instead, I realised at that moment that everything I held up to that point could not be held forever in my hands. And what I could keep indefinitely was not to be held but felt -- remembered -- loved. I was not meant to keep these things; I was not meant to think them mine. They were meant to course, ripple, bubble, turn and shift as they went. Just as I was meant to.

M.M.