Unity At Last

A stream of water traces lines through a forest full of pines,

When at a rock it bifurcates, sending halves to different fates.

One wends this way, the other that, through little towns and farmlands flat,

And though from where they cannot say, pick up new water on the way.

Eventually they reconvene, each having passed a different scene,

And clash together, foaming white. Their differences cause them to fight.

Yet shortly after comes the sea, which every stream greets happily,

And waters mingle, fresh and salt, erasing every little fault.

Who then can say from whence it came? The water sparkling on the main,

It soon ascends to higher planes, into the clouds, then down as rain,

Where it becomes a stream again.