Letting Go

 A tiny rill was once born 
 On the cliff of a mountain high
 Which tower`d up with craggy peaks
 And reached up to the sky
  
  
 The rill began its descent downward
 As it was meant to do
 And as it trudged its rocky path
 Lo behold, it grew and grew
  
  
 First a rill and then a brook
 Soon it became a stream
 It raced away from where it was born 
 All to chase a dream
  
  
 The mountain watched it grow apace
 Its crags suffering many a mighty blow
 It stopped the clouds with its tall peaks
 So the stream with the rain could grow
  

 At last the stream reached the plain
 Now a river with a path to make
 The mountain knew it would never be back
 Its heart beginning to break
  
  
 The river now had a single goal
 To find the sea wide and blue
 Far behind, the mountain watched
 All its dreams come true
  
  
 The river found its sea at last
 And was lost in its embrace
 ‘Go my child “, smiled the mountain green
 ‘May you be blest with God`s grace
  
  
 “ No longer can I keep pace with you
 You have grown long and wide
 From afar though I rejoice in you
 Your very being is my pride”
  
  
 I asked the mountain, “ Does it hurt
 To let your little rill go?”
 “Children have to find themselves”, it smiled
 Its tears beginning to flow
  
  
 “ Tis but the natural order of things
 And it will always be so
 WISDOM LIES IN HOLDING ON
 BUT KNOWING WHEN TO LET GO.
 

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