then when I swam my way up,
the bank seemed as pretty as the golden twilight,
the collation of the warm sand and the cold breeze under the trees, made me realize the beauty of opposites.
the moon and the sun,
the shadows and the light,
the water and the sand,
and me and you so-might.
we are opposites, we are complete.
and as the moon is incomplete without its scars,
we too are incomplete without ours.
scars make you what you are.
even your dreams have scars,
a guitarist who is arrogant,
an artist who is self centered,
an astronaut who is misogynist,
and a write who is phony.
that's the beauty of the river
that's the beauty of dreams.