In response to the Tree next door, the Waters of the River waved the following song in the midst of tiny swirls:
– Ah, those foot steps to visit us who believe they have crossed lands and rivers and seas and mountains as heroes to conquer and conquer, when they were nothing more than puppets of their own shadows and passions, which lead them to tie themselves on your arm without any real understanding of what afflicts them! Oh, they passed through valleys without understanding what they had under their haughty and subaltern feet, without realizing how being a valley is necessary to live, because between two mountains what brings the balance of the landscape? Many of our visitors visit us, in fact, and when they don't attach themselves to your branches for fatality, they dive their feet or their fingertips, caressing my waters, wishing that time flows with them as my waters flow with me. But how can they desire such a thing, when they do not know they are water nor valley? I will bubble a hint for you here, hoping that you can whisper it with your leaves to the eager for wisdom, since some listen to it at a better time than to me: I know where, when and how every drop of my being has penetrated. To live and exist in so many places at the same time, without losing myself from my essence is a gift to be sought by all beings who cherish themselves, and even by you, my dear, who still has many paths to put down roots. Dear tree friend, you have learned so much in all these years here beside me! You have learned to contemplate and love my waters, to love what is inconstant in its fluidity and what is fluid in its inconstancy. Yes, I felt the footsteps of this new visitor, who had stopped briefly to see a frog beside me, there in the beginning of me. So, I abbreviate my escape by telling you just that: Time. Time. What is time if not one more liquid garment that serves us? You sing to me about what men scorch hearts and minds in arduous search, with fatuous and ignoble desires, in order to control with their hands of shadows something made of cosmic light! Well, that time will surely come, in the same way that my waters will fall endlessly over that hill sooner or later, but for now let us remain as we just are, contemplating and loving our friendship and good neighborhood, watching the footsteps of those who chase us.
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