The River
by
Amethyst

The river expected the log to be there at the curve of the bank, and so it formed its currents to fit into a path around the log. And it shape-shifted itself to come up against the log, then slowly find its way around at an accustomed pace. And the river knew itself with the log as part of it; its waters took on a certain pattern and character because of the log's presence, and that is the way the river knew itself.

Then one day the log was gone and the path of the water was suddenly forced to change. The pauses in the water and the swirling places where it had always known to go faster or slower were drastically altered, and it wasn't the same river. The river was shocked and confused and in mourning because it didn't know how to know itself anymore.

But gradually the water learned a new way to flow without the log and it became a new river, a different river. And the water continued to flow and the river lived. But in the memory of the waters were the fish who had lived under the log and who didn't live there anymore because the current was too swift now.

The river searched and found that the fish had moved downstream to another protected place. And the river was glad because it understood that the fish had only learned a new way to continue, just as the river had, and they were not lost. The river knew then that there would be other changes in its course and the fish might move again. And there would be at least two things that would remain forever constant and forever changing, the fish and the river.