Crystalline water melting under temperatures of sunlit rocks, cascading down the mountain ridges. Crevasses deep enough to remind you of the internal void of the infinite. The void of creation. The unknown. Yet somehow the water always finds its smoothest course, drifting down rock faces carved by millions of years of shifting. Levels rising and falling with the continuous plummet of melting into the waxing of a winter moon. We have no control over the waters course. All we can do is watch. Just as the trees stood next to this bouldering creek over thousands of transformative winters.
WARRIOR WOMAN 