The river


Motion of water bringing a peace in the shade and light of moving water.

A place where life stems from. Cradle of life.

I thirst.

The waters bringing me to life. A life that is mortal.

Waters plunged into– take me to the river– to die beneath,

but rise again to new life, reborn.

Moving water, purifying, cleansing. Washing away the messes of men, of sin, unclean things of the person, within and without.

I sit upon the rock, waters moving before me and around me, eddying, swirling, always moving along its path.

Movement of water has a simple profundity. Life is motion, death is stillness.

Motion cleanses, carrying filth away. Stagnation putrifies.

In the cool of the river and shade and sunlight, reminiscent of eternal living waters. The river Lethe washing away the memories of sin. Cleansed, white as snow not remember iniquities. Then after the water washing, I can pass through fire.


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