It is difficult to find fresh words to describe something that has existed long before there were eyes to witness, but if it can repeatedly disturb dormant emotions, then it's worth a try.
Walking upstream throughout the forest is absolutely necessary. In doing so, it dutifully works you up: bit by bit, teasing you with small trickles that will grow into little falls. The pools get prettier as the sound gets louder. Winding up the muddy paths, you take great care to step over roots, puddles, and vegetation. You pause for pictures. You look around, to absorb your surroundings. With every turn, more depth is revealed behind the blankets of thick brush. Layers upon layers of feral flora and fauna. You're continually surprised, this next landing could not possibly be prettier than the last, but here they are: bigger lagoons, bluer waters, louder falls. You rest. Leisurely indulge in a dip. With every step, as you wade in, you become awakened by the clean water. You expect it to be cold but it's only crisp. It's pure, here. The falling water causes currents and they're strong, but playful as you embrace them. You become comfortable. Once you're dry, you feel centered.
You move forward. The sound is louder, the turns are teasing now because right when you think you've reached there, you haven't. It is still getting better with every surge, you feel progress, you've moved forward, but it's less rewarding, you just want to be at the top already, the sound coaxing you to come hither, you're almost there. You realize your pace has quickened, and you find you're nearly running through the final stretch throughout the thick vines and leaves and around the trees, you hop over creeks instead of crossing the bridges because you can hear the pounding force of God's green earth under duress, Newtons 3rd law in effect, creating the sound that absorbs you to the point of asphyxiation, you want to be right there, and the turns and plants seem less alluring because it's only a side to the main event, it's not as important because you've seen it a hundred times already and who really cares about another tree or plant or whatever, until up ahead you catch a glimpse of what you've come to see, and when you finally get there, oh, my, God. The final pay off. It's a heart stopping invigoration, thrust upon you, and you're nearly knocked over by the sheer force of it's size -- the casual spilling over as though on a whim, the power of free falling water completely suspended, touching nothing but itself for one-one thousand, two-two thousand, three-three thousand...the tiers of surrounding life that is overripe, dripping wet and thriving, heavy under it's own, you don't even matter because even if you wanted to you couldn't do anything of consequence, here you can't even say so because being drowned out by this pure power is part of the deal, your sacrifice for being allowed to witness the dynamic state of perpetual unfolding, you're a little fleck of nothing, you run around the base trying to capture it's essence, take something with you, you don't want to let go of this magnificence, but it's futile. It is so much bigger than you. You realize that water always has, and always will continue to fall, and it does so entirely independent of your existence. It is then you are able to be electrified by something, in a way that you will never fully understand.
You move forward. The sound is louder, the turns are teasing now because right when you think you've reached there, you haven't. It is still getting better with every surge, you feel progress, you've moved forward, but it's less rewarding, you just want to be at the top already, the sound coaxing you to come hither, you're almost there. You realize your pace has quickened, and you find you're nearly running through the final stretch throughout the thick vines and leaves and around the trees, you hop over creeks instead of crossing the bridges because you can hear the pounding force of God's green earth under duress, Newtons 3rd law in effect, creating the sound that absorbs you to the point of asphyxiation, you want to be right there, and the turns and plants seem less alluring because it's only a side to the main event, it's not as important because you've seen it a hundred times already and who really cares about another tree or plant or whatever, until up ahead you catch a glimpse of what you've come to see, and when you finally get there, oh, my, God. The final pay off. It's a heart stopping invigoration, thrust upon you, and you're nearly knocked over by the sheer force of it's size -- the casual spilling over as though on a whim, the power of free falling water completely suspended, touching nothing but itself for one-one thousand, two-two thousand, three-three thousand...the tiers of surrounding life that is overripe, dripping wet and thriving, heavy under it's own, you don't even matter because even if you wanted to you couldn't do anything of consequence, here you can't even say so because being drowned out by this pure power is part of the deal, your sacrifice for being allowed to witness the dynamic state of perpetual unfolding, you're a little fleck of nothing, you run around the base trying to capture it's essence, take something with you, you don't want to let go of this magnificence, but it's futile. It is so much bigger than you. You realize that water always has, and always will continue to fall, and it does so entirely independent of your existence. It is then you are able to be electrified by something, in a way that you will never fully understand.
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