“I love you”, said the tree to the river.
“But which part of me?” said the river.
Is it the part that you see
reflecting your beauty?
Or the part that you feel
gently tickling your roots,
deliciously drenching your soul?
How about my other parts?
My very shallow,
my very deep,
my very dark recesses?
My ever changing,
ever flowing self?
My rough, turbulent, murky,
rocky, noisy, brutal,
dangerous, raging self?
Do you love them too?
Do you even know them?