It went that way.

It did - the way a spring begins.

Softly breaking through
the earth, unassuming and gentle, as
it finds the path of least
resistance, the spring becomes a brook.

I feel a current building
Slow. Sure.

Is it merely the lay of the land?
That defines our journey.

No, but the physics of existence
plays its part in our cosmic encounter.
We pass under bridges,
and through valleys where
the sun cannot touch.

A prologue is never long enough
for the climax avoids its reach.

But humbled by the force

We tumble, then flow - along.
What should feel clumsy instead feels
graceful.