The imaginary life of a water droplet
The streams of time passed through the land as they always had. They began, high up in the hills, tiny tiny droplets of water that swirled and massed and gathered together, gently rolling, merging, co-existing. Eventually, they began to flow, ever downwards, ever forwards.
Passed the tiny seedlings, the grass banks, the open fields, the ferns an the oak trees, they continued on their journey,
Under wooden bridges, rickety and ravaged by time they flowed. Salmon swam in the opposite direction, intent on continuing their cycle of life.
They followed the meanderings of their predecessors, this way and that, carving their way through the environment. They caught up with those gone before, becoming stronger. Wider.
Through villages they passed. Green lawns with tents and afternoon teas. Through more farmland, full with cows and sheep munching away on the ripest of grasses.
They came to abrupt halts every now and again as they arrived at man-made locks. Some flowed in a different direction as the joined man-made canals, others continued on their journey. Whichever way they went, they passed through the darkness.
Murky, oily waste water merged with them, slowing their flow, and removing most of the freshness from them. However, onwards they travelled.
Eventually, they found themselves mostly cleaner as they passed through parts of the man-made towns and cities that needed to use them. The more they were needed, the more the towns and cities grew. And every once in a while the darkness would return.
Onwards they travelled.
Out of the towns and cities, through yet more lush countryside until they reach their destination. The open seas. Some travelled ever onwards. Others joined the clouds, and travelled back into land to the hilltops to start another journey afresh.
A continuous circle.
But how long the circle continues to exist remains to be seen.