Stream of Consciousness

Held deep in the midnight womb of the mountain,
Sucking nutrients from sedimentary rocks,
Born from a violent pulsing fountain,
Spluttering pure waters, blind from the dark,

Guided gently by the banks’ embrace,
She crawls over pebbles, babbling and bubbling
After months of silence, finding her voice,
Her upturned face admires, reflecting
Sky, cloud and sun in hurried fragments,
Her slippery tongue tastes everything.

Stretching her legs, she widens her stride,
Covering ground with remarkable speed,
Tugs at finger-like roots at her edges,
Pulling yet holding, scared to be free,
Gathering debris, soft trinkets for her bed,
Absorbs what she can with insatiable greed.

Churning and hissing, her anger apparent,
Gathering cohorts she later rejects,
Dispelling them coldly in furious passions,
Forcing her way in nihilistic excess,
Reckless torrents spearhead new channels
To unknown destinies, lost she plummets.

Gentle now, gathering partners to her side,
Wider she dances in curves a plenty,
Rising fertility swells over fields,
Pike, perch and grayling swim in her belly,
Her mossy flanks alive with dragonflies,
Water abundant with life, so peaceful.

Shallow waters not fresh but briny,
Banks of sand with knife-blade grasses,
Slowly towards the misty firth she slides
While life on its journey, through her, passes,
To return to places, long past, she strives
But the surge behind, her progress, hampers,

Resignedly she joins the sea, the moon
Her new guide reveals the world, a tear
Of raindrops, snowflakes, used fluids;
All souls lost or slumbering drift in her,
Through life and death, eroding currents sweep,
To and fro she rocks the world to sleep.