When we spoke the words flowed like water through a river bed. Made for and by itself, meandering a path to bring life to all it touches. The flowers bloomed from it. The animals drank from it. It made the most beautiful sound when it ran peacefully over the rocks smoothing their jagged edges over time. It inspired awe in its rage, for it could roar loud enough to deafen and stun. Speaking with him in anger could drown me like plunging beneath an ice cold waterfall. It was pummeling against rocks so sharp that they cut, so strong their edges could not be dulled by any manner of waters. With him the words flowed around the earth, and even when it slowed to just mere trickles at time I know that one day those drops will be oceans, lakes and streams.




















