A river runs through it

It's me, in the corner, and a river runs through me.

You wouldn't say it - you wouldn't notice it. Neither remember it. But there it is. It's so small sometimes I forget it.

Small doesn't mean unimportant.

It doesn't matter if it's morning, afternoon, evening or late at night. It can be any time, like a glimse to remind myself: a river runs through my heart. And it has got a name. I call it once in a while. It lives within the best part of me. Can you hear me? I'm saying your name.

And as I wake up to a new day, life takes its course - and a river - oh, river, I love the green shades of your water - runs through it. In every detail I am reminded of its power, yet it's so soft. Look at my tender heart and you'll see it.

So you, river, have taken your course, and I've taken mine, because not choosing is also a choice, and thus the seconds of the hours are counted. Once I counted to ten, and I can tell you: I've lost time.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a River runs through me.