Echo of Water

Every surface holds a secret— the way light breaks across a ripple's spine, the sun's refraction bent into invisible dust.

Water remembers what we forget: each shadow that falls upon it, each hand that disturbs the surface returns as rings of silence.

The river carries everything forward but surrenders nothing completely— a glimmer here, a shimmer there, fragments of the sky stitched into current.

We wade through what passes and call it movement, call it time, but water knows better: every moment reflects before it flows away.