She is enchanting.
She cascades down the rapids, fast and free.
Withholding nothing.
Every part of her is swept away
swirling and splashing downstream
on her way to whatever may lie ahead.
But the water is nothing
without the rocks.
The rocks carry her smoothly across
her flowing stream
then spread themselves down
down to the bottom of the waterfall
each ledge gently catching the water and easing her descent.
The rocks are her backbone
showing her off
unveiling her grandeur.
No matter how many times she falls,
he never ceases to catch her at the bottom,
easing her back to the serenity of her smooth, level ground.
He lines her floors and shores
giving river shape and dimension.
She carries merrily on her way,
ever unaware of the sacrifice he makes for her.
For each time he catches her fall,
each time her cascade crashes upon him,
even as he eases her away,
he is giving her a part of himself.
She is unknowingly wearing away at his foundation.
But the rock has never harbored a single bitter thought
towards the water.
For he gives her meaning,
and she gives him purpose.
One would be nothing
without the other.
