Ancient mountains swept with snow,
where a dropp of water begins to flow,
is the birthplace of a small stream,
and something I would never dream.
...
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this*...because deleting & reposting may result in multiple posts, lol.
I like the storytelling here. How the initial thought is built upon so cleverly, and with such a skilled ease. Gives the idea of something becoming greater, spiraling, accumulating. There is a quiet intensity about tis poem. Well done.
I enjoyed this poem very much. It's so easy for little white lies to become so much more than just that and i loved how you compared these lies spiraling out of control to rushing water. Good job.