I’m a sea since I could never have been a river.
I’m an ocean teeming with life underneath, marveling people with all I contain.
Someone asked me once, to turn myself into a puddle.
Shallow, leftover water, to be stepped in, kicked, driven over and through, then broomed away when it becomes inconvenient.
They explained, patiently and with infinite wisdom, all the reasons why.
With raging waves, swells and valleys, I let my vast presence consume their whole sight.
Why, I boomed, why would I reduce myself to please you? When instead, I can chip away at your foundations, wave after wave, year after year, relentless. Until you drift off to the very bottom of me, so small, so insignificant that I forget you.