The river and a rock

The river had to flow its way,
For its nature is never to be bound,
Rocks can but impede a flow,
But in time to its will bend,
The trees have to be fed,
Many meadows need the song,
Of flowing water and the nightingale song.
To love is river bound,
The love of ocean to be.
Let those that have chosen to be with
Wash in its glory and leave it to be.
The dwellers know not its worth,
For they live small lives,
Lives too short to see a river step
From their shores to shores unclaimed,
From their lives to change others within.

A rock sleeps on its bed,
It holds memories of another day.
The river flows a little apart,
Its paths have a little change.
The bed has been cut and glisten still,
In colors of stone the twilight plays.
The rock is not the rock anymore,
For it holds memories of moisture within!
The heart of the rock has flown away,
For it stands on its bed a little low.
The green trees have moved on,
So have the birds that sang,
Farther is the melody that the river brought,
The rock today stands alone.
The rock but will sit ages,
And wait for the nightingale to sing.
A rock can but look thither and wait,
For the melody, only the river can bring,