Stream of thoughts flowing in blank space

The pebble in the water

Is there a place where all the waters begin to flow like one? 

A crystal color, so easy to watch. So easy to drink. Pure.

Do a pair of eyes exist to absorb all the shine glazing on the surface of the water? It makes your heart race with panic because you know they can't take it all. No eyes exist to see it and take it home as it is. The sheer water will just be a twisted memory that you will try to relive it, remember it as it is. But your eyes are not powerful enough. And they tried. They tried to see it all. They tried to breathe it all, just to save it for later. But you can't fit the smell of all the waters in a person's lungs. Like a cloudy steam in a thin glassware eprouvette, it will overflow and escape in the space of nothingness. And just like that, the beautiful memory of what has passed won't be recalled ever again.

While staring at the gathered water, you think about its enchanting gleam. Like it has a sheen vail on the surface. But did anyone ever ask the water if it likes the sun to shine over it?

You think about the calmness and you envy it. Maybe that's why you want to selfishly collect it, but too bad your hands are not big enough to carry all the heaviness that comes with it.

From the tree that you sit beneath, a pebble rolls down and crushes the delicate veil on top of the river. It distorts the glow that you stared at before. You ask the pebble to go away, to leave the sheer veil on top because it brought uneasiness to the river that was calm before.

You can see a protest circling at the place where the pebble fell and you follow it, tracing the skin of the water. Waves of disbelief and displeasure come out as a defensive way against the one who disturbed the flow of tranquility. And once that was serene and beautiful before, now is showing a vast exasperation. Do you still want to breathe it all in?

But water won't be extraordinary if it doesn't take what life throws into her. You follow the waves, and unlike your eyes that can't absorb the beauty of it, the water eventually takes the pebble who knocked on her midnight. And what was protesting before, now becomes a greeting whisper. And what was a wave before, now was a weaving of a new vail, more beautiful than before.

The grey pebble gently flows in the lightness of the water, as it probably hears a cradling melody that doesn't exist for us. It found its seat among other stones that once made the water wave. And you are still desperate for it, wanting to grasp a handful of peace and run away with it. Because when you look at the stones that sit still like a heavy embroidery on the bottom, you wonder how could the water be so calm, and yet carry so much heaviness in its heart?

Is there a place where all the waters begin to flow like one, and who dared to separate them?