The raging river stands between what is and what is to be. Certainty is elusive but you seem to be on the right path. What is right, but the steps you take and those you keep taking till the point everything else seems the part of what could have been. You live in the present, the reality, and that remains the truth for you. What remains is the path you took, the fall crunching under you as the crow flies across the sky.
The wild river
You stand at the bank of the raging river. It is not calm, but you are. It is not serene, but you are. It is a promise in itself, to be wild, to be not what you have been through all this while. The river promises the heady indulgence for what is next. The river promises flow. It welcomes the skinny dip, the skinny morning that follows, cleansing you from the sweet sweat of your travels. Sends a chill down your bones, makes you quiver under the moonlight, whispers in your ears amidst loud gushes of the shallows. Do you feel it wash through between your legs? Does it lick your arm pits and bite your neck? The raging river is a world apart. It is the pleasurable necessity you undertake.
The river that attempts to overwhelm
You attempt to swim through the raging river and stumble a bit. It threatens to take you away with it and you lose your footing a few times. You take a dip, and feel it the way it has been described. You attempt to tame the raging river, and fail miserably. The river knows no land. You seek land. But you belong to the river, or so it assumes. How dare you dream of something the river does not understand? It attempts to overwhelm and a weaker man may falter.
But not you. No way.
It is a short struggle, as you wade through the raging river. Wet and throbbing with joy. The heady, necessary indulgence promising to bring you back to these delicious moments. It cleared your mind and you are on land again. The river keeps flowing, the way it used to be, the way it will continue to. Wading through was the only way, for you are born for the new land, the new mountains and the new wind. The journey will demand the necessary hunger, the necessary pinch, the necessary sex, the necessary amputation and the ongoing trudge that squeezes you into something you have never been before.
Rage on, little river. A dip is all I needed. The land awaits.