The Crying River
A small stream started his journey towards the big ocean. He wanted to be one with the huge body of water. That was the only goal. The stream, painstakingly cut through the rocks and the dirt and was trying to make its way down the mountain. It was a huge mountain. He remembered his mother, the glacier. She was white and pure, but when he was born he saw her sick and blemished. She was receding every moment and he was probably the last child who was born.
He remembered the moments he was born and let down the earth. He was so pure and clean, cutting through rocks slowly and getting stronger from the minerals. He felt very lonely and sad. His mother was dying. That was inevitable he thought. He just couldn't grasp the reason. Not yet though.
The stream was sad, but that was a part of his life. He was too lonely. He meandered through the forest, gaining in width and depth, his clear fresh water running over every obstacle. Slowly he gained pride. He was a majestic flow, etching his path through everything that lay in his path. Many animals became dependent on him, trees grew all around him. He was lonely but at least he was proud.
The flora and fauna became his newest friend. He was happy after a long time. The animals came down everyday to drink and he felt so contented and proud. Several fishes were also living inside him too. They enjoyed each other's company. The stream provided water to them and they gave him company.
Suddenly one day, huge yellow four footed animals came, crushing everything in their path. They uprooted the trees, dug up the ground. All the animals ran away. The place became desolate. There was no one to give him company anymore. He was alone. Once more.
Then one day, he could see trees again, but of strange shapes and abnormal colors growing on the desolate field. They were huge and had strange holes in them. They were spewing strange clouds from them and all the birds either flew away or died. Suddenly he felt sick. A weird black liquid was flowing into him. All the fish started dying. The river lost all its pride. It was no longer clean and full of vigor. It was all black and sick.
Suddenly the flow of water stopped in the river. He thought he was dying. Someone put a barrier in his path. A barrier with small holes, which were covered up. He cried for the first time. he couldn't flow anymore. A river is supposed to flow, when it couldn't flow, he was just a prisoner. He felt isolated, alone, unclean and constrained. He was no longer free. That was the day when the river cried.
He remembered the moments he was born and let down the earth. He was so pure and clean, cutting through rocks slowly and getting stronger from the minerals. He felt very lonely and sad. His mother was dying. That was inevitable he thought. He just couldn't grasp the reason. Not yet though.
The stream was sad, but that was a part of his life. He was too lonely. He meandered through the forest, gaining in width and depth, his clear fresh water running over every obstacle. Slowly he gained pride. He was a majestic flow, etching his path through everything that lay in his path. Many animals became dependent on him, trees grew all around him. He was lonely but at least he was proud.
The flora and fauna became his newest friend. He was happy after a long time. The animals came down everyday to drink and he felt so contented and proud. Several fishes were also living inside him too. They enjoyed each other's company. The stream provided water to them and they gave him company.
Suddenly one day, huge yellow four footed animals came, crushing everything in their path. They uprooted the trees, dug up the ground. All the animals ran away. The place became desolate. There was no one to give him company anymore. He was alone. Once more.
Then one day, he could see trees again, but of strange shapes and abnormal colors growing on the desolate field. They were huge and had strange holes in them. They were spewing strange clouds from them and all the birds either flew away or died. Suddenly he felt sick. A weird black liquid was flowing into him. All the fish started dying. The river lost all its pride. It was no longer clean and full of vigor. It was all black and sick.
Suddenly the flow of water stopped in the river. He thought he was dying. Someone put a barrier in his path. A barrier with small holes, which were covered up. He cried for the first time. he couldn't flow anymore. A river is supposed to flow, when it couldn't flow, he was just a prisoner. He felt isolated, alone, unclean and constrained. He was no longer free. That was the day when the river cried.
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