One fine day, a raindrop fell.
Again, and again, its sistren fell alongside it.
"Hello, mountain," they sang,
one voice,
"We need a place to sleep. May we slumber here?"
And the mountain smiled and hollowed itself, and the raindrops nestled,
and laid their translucent heads down together.

Aeons flitted by like dazed starlings,
and the raindrops were joined by their daughters and granddaughters,
and carried the mountain with them like ants,
tiny piece by tiny piece,
bearing thousands of times of their own weight.

The mountain bowed beneath them,
wise and placid,
until the rain spilled over and wore its way down the mountainside.
Meandering, slithering,
like wept tears down a child's cheek.

Aeons flitted by like dazed starlings,
and a thin path was worn down the mountainside,
raindrops asking politely to pass,
ancient mountain acquiescing under gentle, sodden toes.

All was well until the river, new and weak, reached the valley.
Lazy soil soaked it up;
Stubborn roots drank their fill;
Pigheaded rocks laughed and stood their ground, refusing to let the river pass.

The river pleaded,
"This is the path we must take, sir,
Let us pass."

The rock laughed, and did not part itself,
did not thin itself,
did not quiesce so easily.
"I am stronger than you,
pathetic river.
I am sturdy and strong and you will not pass."

The river, thinned by roots and soil and hard won distance,
smiled softly. "All this is true.
But we are patient,
and we will wait.
We will always wait."

Aeons flitted by like dazed starlings.
The river slid through the dirt, through the roots,
dancing past obstacles with a babbling laugh,
and met itself on the other side.

Forever onwards, the river giggled,
"We told you,
silly stone,
that we would wait forever."

Aeons flitted by like dazed starlings,
and the pigheaded rock disappeared,
carried along by the raindrop sistren
to learn patience.