I stood before a glorious ravine,
Asking myself if it was worth the fall.
Trying to understand if this power and force,
Cascaded with a purpose and a drive.
Did it desire to be flung down the cliff side?
Did it work it’s way through forests and creeks,
To arrive at this place with a sense of achievement?
Did it feel accomplished to have reached this beautiful height?
Was it a struggle for it to churn and boil?
Dashing across rocks and through fields for miles?
And if so, was it worth all that,
Just to arrive at the bottom of this waterfall,
In a calm, rolling oasis of tranquility?
How did it know where it was going?
How could it trust the embankments that governed its flow?
What if a drop decided it wanted to deviate?
My question was a simple one: was there a hidden fire of purpose entrapped in the drops of this waterfall?
UWC 