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Poetry & Things
Title ^
Always moving, always flowing, a river cannot rest ever a moment. No seamless plain exists where a river can become a tranquil pool of reflection. Always rushing, trickling and swishing through rocks, between trees, down hills. Rivers are pure. Crystal clear beings. Mother of life. A river shall forever flow because it must reach its lover. The ocean is always waiting to reunite.Father of life





 
 
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