Born from a river of love:
The lake of impurity,
The brook of mistrust,
The creek of cruelty,
The stream of unjust,
And the sea of jealousy,
Of these, I can’t swim one.
Water II
The water, clear and pure,
Raging—so powerful.
It’s consumingly healing.
It magically cleanses
All the weak and weary.
Almost musical,
As it so surely courses
Through the forest.
It mystically nurtures
All those in need.
It calms and soothes
The sores rubbed raw.
Consealing the hurt
That comes from within—
The water,
That comes from without.
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