The River's Arithmetic

Water remembers stone in the shape of its absence— how granite surrenders grain by grain, becoming the smooth tongue of the river.

There is no violence here, only the long arithmetic of persistence. A thousand years of patient dissolution, and what emerges is grace.

The canyon holds its own history in walls of rust and blood-red clay, each layer a season of falling, each stratum a confession written in sediment and shadow.

We too are being worn away, softened by the current of small, ordinary losses— until what remains is something we almost recognize.