Flow

I am a mountain spring. In the eyes of the mountain, I am small, but so vital. I run through forests, I search the valleys, I am cold and alive. I dream of a quiet lake, but I can’t be one. There’s too much motion, there’s too much purpose, there’s too much desire to conquer the world. The mountain would be empty without me, although the mountain gets tired of my constant flowing. It sets up rocks in my path; it uproots trees and throws them in my banks. I move around the rocks, I flow through the trees. My banks cannot contain me. I get to the dam and I focus on being. I am amazed at how free I feel, and how contained. I come and go, from one side to the other, I jump and flow and the dam is around me. I smile… I am free, but I am home. When I get tired, I can make… electricity.
I am a mountain spring. You are my dam.