Rivers, falling down the mountain's sides
So weak and empty, fleeting and small.
But over time valleys will from,
Bridges will be built and burned.
Over time. For now they are small,
They run dry in the summers
And freeze over in winter
But in autumn and spring they run merciless and free.
So cry me a river
And I will tell you it's beautiful.
Beautiful when light burns into it,
When pink petals cover its surface,
When we are building a dam to stop the flow
Only to come back and see it pushed away.
I will tell you it's beautiful, not because it is.
No. In fact it is terrifying.
I will tell you this because it makes you beautiful.
It has drowned you and given you life anew.
And now you show yourself, this beauty,
To us - the world - and in your beauty is comfort.
A moments peace from all that is uncomfortable
And in this there is hope; that one day we will be ok.
