The Bitter End of Sweetness Only in its freshness do the waters search the skies, or fall in blinding purity, white snow upon the mount, or as scented summer rains flashing rainbows in the air; and it's the sweet-water river running briskly on the earth exploring through the meadows and the hillsides of the world. But not a drop of sweetness can escape its surefire fate, started yet forgotten since when first these waters fell precipitating from the skies, they were drawn along their course: a long progression downwards, ever lower to the sea, to the bitter end they'll find in the estuary's salt. Loaded with the dirt and dust from their journey through the world like mem'ries of their wanderings, their playtime in the sun, they fall at last at sea-level's feet, and at this their story ends; they drop their silt and lose their joys in the vastness of the sea, and soon forget the light they knew in the darkness of the depths. And while movement doesn't cease for them, the ocean currents run, and true some may evaporate, again shed salt for sweet, for most it's only roaming through the ocean's open maze, a labyrinth of pathless space, the senseless drift of bitter water, doomed to the depressions which the oceans call their home.
