Two rivers met beneath a storm,

each sure the other ran the wrong way.

One sang of mountains,

the other of sea—

but neither could quiet

the rumble in the middle.

They argued in currents,

pushed and pulled over stones

too old to take sides.

Birds flew overhead

like questions left unanswered.

Still, the sky did not choose.

And in the end,

they carved a canyon together,

wide and silent,

where once there was only soft earth

and the chance

to turn.