Sonnet XXIII – The Map a River Makes

The map a river makes will oft be changed,
As paths of least resistance come and go.
When earth meets water – stone and mud estranged;
Direction switches, none can stop the flow.
Blocked for a time, our dams create new shapes,
Yet waters move, as sources feed afresh.
Although well stoppered – some by need escapes,
Lest feeble efforts nature’s wrath would thresh.
In fact, behold, the deluge comes upon;
the levees burst and none can stand the wash.
The reservoir once deep – now empty – gone,
And downstream raging torrents churn and slosh.

The forces you would seek to circumvent
Will still break free and mock the effort spent

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