The River.

The river flows, its banks widen
As he watches
The life hidden in it

Some longs to escape, thrashing
the banks wider with each
beat.
Some remains, content flowing on its path
Going as the life traveling before it went
Slow then
quick, speeding and slowing,
All at the same pace.

He watches the
River he has created deepen
And swell.
His eyes droop
Drowsy, he watches the movement.
He is lulled by what
He watches.

The river is slowing finally
The last dredges of life inhabiting it panic
And fall
To pieces.
He watches no more happy,
In a sense, with what he has seen.

The river is dry
When he is found
The life which rejoiced in
The river:
Stopped.