the river

I’m in a garden, by a stream.
The water is beautiful, gentle, inviting.
Someone is with me.
He wants me to follow the stream to its source.
So I start to follow.
The stream is pleasant, and I enjoy being with my companion.
It starts to widen, and becomes a river.
I am walking not beside but in it, against the current.
The current is strong, and taking steps is hard work.
My companion often reaches out pull me through or support my back as I push towards my goal.
Now there are rapids, and rocks, and I feel exhausted and bruised.
I know I must reach the source of the river.
I stumble often, and at times my companion has to pick me up and carry me over jagged rocks.
Sometimes I lose sight of him, but he is there, in the right place to catch me or help me.
I am so tired of the current, but I know I must make it, I must follow.
I must continue with him, as long as it takes.
It would be easy to be swept away, and though sometimes this almost happens, he catches me.
I do not know when this will end.
I don’t know why I am going through it.
I only know I must.

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