Like water cascades down the cliff
from the hills behind.
It flows gently down
into the vale.
It crashes against the shore
day after day.
It flows over the edges,
onto the land.
It flows steadily
out of heavens.
It falls from the clouds
in small dribs,
in soft white bits.
It flatteringly fills
not only some fissures
but all, to the hilt,
an amorphous, thin mass
rising and falling and graceful.
It pervades throughout the depth.
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