I am the rock wall, burnt by the sun, too far from the water to quench my thirst.
I am the boulders and gravel and dust crumbled from the wall, lying at its feet.
I am the sun which warms the rock.
I am the frost which heaves it down.
I am the river, ever changing, flowing through the jumble, around boulders, over gravel, carrying the dust with me as I go.
I am misty moisture, returning to the clouds, rising, cycling, ready to be thrown to earth again, diving with abandon when released - with the storm clouds behind me and thunder urging me on, crashing into the rocks, dripping into the dust.
I am the echo rolling along behind the storm.
I am the lightning racing through darkness.
I am darkness itself.
I am silence.
