This river. That flows into a ocean.
It cannot be stopped. It won't be dammed.
No blocks no restrictions.
It will run. It will ebb.
These babbling brooks.
These streams of old.
They cannot be made.
They just are.
Each one flowing into the seas of seven.
Expanding as far as the eyes can see.
What is there in this.
But the vastness an depth.
Set adrift on my hearts wild current ocean.
In a little rowing boat.
Made for me an you.