Amicalola, June 23rd

I drove up here to find You.
Instead, I saw myself, broken and scattered,
Fragmented and cascading down.

But every waterfall, rapid-filled,
Stone-cut and turbulent,
Eventually narrows,
Quiets,
And joins itself again.

And there in the calm reflection
Of the still pool at the end of the stream,
The surface of the water is kissed by the air —
Unaware that, a mile previous, it was in its midst, dancing:
Living, and moving, and having its being.

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