THE RIVERS



 



THE RIVERS
(A Parable)
 
High amongst the mountain peaks,
Was a sparkling pool of blue,
The mother source of ponds and lakes,
And streams and rivers, too.
 
And from that pristine wonderment,
Two mighty rivers came about,
That began as one single stream,
Before it grew and split apart.
 
That stream came down the mountain side,
Separating as it flowed,
One branch went East, the other West,
As the water spilled below.
 
Though sisters at their source,
Now each moved on alone,
Yet both retained some common drops,
That together once they'd known.
 
Two individual rivers,
With different modes and styles,
Not recognized as sisters now,
They each travelled on for miles.
 
One river was rambunctious.
With wild rapids and steep falls,
Tempestuous, exciting,
A challenge, overall.
 
A source of power to be harnessed,
To fulfill the needs of man,
Great reason for this river,
Part of the good Lord's plan.
 
The other, flowing gently,
Was quiet and serene,
A river made for poets,
And folks who sing and dream.
 
Its purpose most important, too,
And part of the Father's plan,
As nourishment for hearts and souls,
And those deeper needs of man.
 
Thus the two sister rivers flowed
Far away from one another,
Both doing as their God proposed,
But not alike each other.
 
Over time the rivers made their way
To separate surging seas,
Which, as planned by their Creator,
Were their final destinies.
 
Clouds then absorbed the waters,
From the oceans on each coast,
And mixed them both together,
To return them to their source.
 
So they returned from whence they came,
To that crystal pool on high,
The two sisters now rejoined,
Their bonds from birth, retied.
 
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright January 2003 ~ Revised February 2008 

For Francine and Lorraine