Slow and steady she flowed
Clear and less,
Sometimes with green moss.
When hot summer burned her,
She stopped flowing,
Unable to move further,
Got herself torn in many little ponds.
The rocks and dirt
Seemed like her soars.
Then came the monsoon
As she cleared everything on her path
She herself was all muddy
Her soars seemed healed
And she was bubbling with life
She looked like the henna clad bride
Going to meet her groom the next day
I saw her flowing from less to more
From lack to abundance
From soft to force
From quiet to the stormy sounds
Her softness took me closer to her,
And her rage left me terrified!