pride

I tried to hold the river tight, obstruct it with earth and stones. To hold it with my limits and bounds and call its path my own. The water would speak my name in wash and crash aloud. And all would wonder at the majestic sight, of my river tamed and wild.

Yet the water would not heed my hand, nor respect my name in choir. It broke my dam and crushed my bridge, and washed away my aisle. I was rent and soon fell in and fought against its pull. But it held me strong and held me final, unless I released its bridle.

And so I freed the raging river, I surrendered my master dreams. And soon I found it had washed me clear of my boundaries and my schemes. As I had clutched and steered the free, I had strangled myself. It was my hand that held me back, it was my freedom bound.

The river was a wild beast far great than myself. Yet I had sought to contains its wash, within the glory from my mouth. It dashed me, it broke me. It dragged me undertow. Til I released my grip upon the labor of my soul.

It did not calm, it did not ease, it washed me on to die. But die in peace and rise in life, and drink from water's white. In loss I won, in weakness strong, I was made alive. Released and free, like river wild, I am he who died.