I saw mouth of a river,
emptying into ocean's bosom,
times immemorial.
a trickle in hillocks
tributaries join
on its way,
river growing wide,
estuaries replete in aquatic life.
ocean receives all water
running helter-skelter,
giving back to the skies
sublimated vapor,
rejuvenated rain,
from rarefied heights
returns to the earth.
all rivers run into sea
but it is not filled,
magic wheel turns,
incessantly,
neither making it full
nor emptying it dry.



maralisa

3 old applause
