Through mountain cracks, the river slips,
A silver thread from nature's lips.
It carves its path, untamed, unbound,
Through forest depths where whispers sound.

It glides past fields, and slithers through streams,
A timeless dance, a poet's dreams.
Beside the village, calm and still,
Yet charged with life, a boundless will.

At times, it roars in fierce dismay,
A torrent wild, sweeping away.
At times, it hums a tranquil song,
Yet flows relentless, ever so strong.

Walls are built, to tame its might,
To halt its course, to claim its right.
But dams will crack, and walls break,
The river gives, but it also takes.

Its fury rises, swift, unchained,
A force of nature, unrestrained.
Yet when it flows, unforced, unpressed,
It nurtures life, it grants us rest.

The path is clear, for those who see,
The river flows, and will be free.
We watch, we learn, we guide its grace,
But never seek to cage its space.

For time, like river, cannot be bound,
It shapes the earth, it wears the ground.
It takes revenge on those who fight,
Yet gifts the world with pure delight.

So let it flow, this river of fate,
With all its beauty, love, and weight.
For in its path, both calm and wild,
Lies life's eternal, flowing child.