The Water Always Flows
A man spends his life damming up a river because the valley beyond seemed so supple and fertile. But in a moment of clarity, he realized what he had forgotten is that which came before had been flooded and buried beneath the murky depths of the pool he had created. He knelt before the edge of the pool, peering down, hoping for a glimmer of the past; yet nothing came except echoes of distant memories and his own sullen reflection. Angered, he tore at its confines, rock by rock, possessed by regret. The water will always flow where it needs.
