Fondness and fondness that transfers itself onto waterfalls;
Edges eroding edges with their molecular differences and making them slowly sameness.
I never once doubted the plans of glacier paths or river beds,
Their fickle tendencies being certainties,
Ours being more or less what we consider unplanned but
Darling, what if we are more like seashores than we tend to believe,
Belief being merely what we fool ourselves into.