The waterwheel
The waterwheel made itself comfortable among the stones
at the base of the waterfall. Where rapids met current
the paddles whirled in the water, and everything depended on water
and the stones on which the sawmill was built. Out spouted planks,
thoughts and churlish words. It quivered and rumbled
down in the river valley when the waterwheel was at top speed and
hauled up the primordial force. When close to rivers I understand
how reality and dreams become interconnected.
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