I was seven when I saw a waterfall for the very first time.
A giant, loud mass of water falling down with a splash!
It made so big and soapy bubbles and so pretty mist all around.
The water shined like tiny little diamonds I wanted to touch so bad,
The rocks were so wet, and like thunder was the sound!
Now, I’m seventeen, looking at the same old waterfall.
An eternal force, a constant cascade that never tires,
It falls over jagged rocks worn smooth by time with mist rising like a cool, delicate veil.
Every drop that tumbles has its own journey to tell with the years,
Echoing the cycles of life, of renewal, of change; different, yet the same.
A reminder of the fleeting time and the infinite, a rhythmic dance that never dies,
The rocks, ancient, bear witness to the passage of time, still steadfast in their stillness.
There is a quiet hum, the breathing of the Earth’s soul under the thunderous roar;
It’s both, a comfort and a reminder, that how everything is in perpetual motion and is ageless.
I think this is what is growing up, a part of life.
March, 2025
