The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,
The weeds on the riverside,
dances with joyous with the flow,
The trees beside the still river,
Stands strong with courage,
Nor does the rocks and pebbles at its edge,
nor does the tree beside the river,
is scared of the flow,
but they lingers together,
to hum with the beautiful lullaby of life.
© Tekasangba walling