River Canon
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The River flows.

The River flows in the West — Narivor
shaded, peaceful, still
soft and crystalline, reflected thousandtimes
within the amethyst and sapphire
emerald and aquamarine
of the land, the crystals
that hold the wind so still
and the mountains at bay. The River
flows in Narivor, and the land
holds its breath in tranquility.

The River flows in the North — Meloth
where the land is foreign
and the bodies are far from home.
The River swells and surges, remembers
the days of summer as a brook
and as a creek
and as a trickle down a sheer granite cliff
and believes it knows the way

to the East, where the River flows — down,
down where eyes long blind from rot
burn anew in Stygian light. The River
soothes the restless dead, comforts
with its lapping waves, somber knells
those whose names are long since gone.
But what is this? A waterfall. For what is death
for those who know not life
but change?

And so: the River flows in the South — Egypt
where the sun is bright
and the sand is fire. The River
remembers the mud, waves
lapis-chip butterflies to descend
and play tag just above its waters
where it can reach up and hit!
swallow the butterflies whole
beneath the waves. The River
is not forgotten, has not gone.
A memory buried, the River
in the mud
for those who dare forget.

Sated, the River flows in Space
and circles itself, catlike
swallows its tail and burns within,
turns back around like the Sun at dawn
encircles a world and squeezes. The River
floods the marsh, topples
the fragile trees of the fen, breaks down
the houses, crumbles the world that it holds dear.
The River is not angry. The River
is alive, joyous, burning fierce
playful, a child with blocks
flying high, a watercloud
in the stratosphere now
and the River is the Night
and the River is the Day; the River
is the Moon and the River
is the Stars, and all the world
is dry, for the River is gone,
has left the world, and the River
is larger than before. The world
is forgotten, and the River
moves on.

The River flows.

What the River Sees⠀-⠀rumetzenrumetzen
It flows it flows it flows it flows to the seeaaaaaaa yah!

⠀Salvation Rests at the River's Edge -⠀Doctor PannDoctor Pann
All come to the river in the end, even the gods.

The River⠀-⠀Stygian BlueStygian Blue
The River will outlive the stars.

Go Fish? - NotAnOligarchNotAnOligarch
To all men, there is a River without end to follow.

The Speakers of the Wood ⠀-⠀ scalykittyscalykitty
The river is a refuge for the unworthy.

A RIVER TALE⠀-⠀author
one-line blurb

A Multavian Fable⠀-⠀Snapdragon133Snapdragon133
The Brook and the Seedling.

Lord of Fertility, of life and death the Source.

Stygian Blues⠀-⠀Maxyfran73Maxyfran73
Even in death, the river flows.

In the Forest Dying, a Fen is Born⠀-⠀Stygian BlueStygian Blue
Death comes in shades of mushroom red.

Blood in the Water⠀-⠀AvocadoMilkAvocadoMilk
The sounds of battle, to you I plea.

The River Cannon⠀-⠀J T K CJ T K C
Rivers, am I right fellas?

A RIVER TALE⠀-⠀author
one-line blurb

    • _

    There is a prion disease called Kuru found chiefly in New Guinea. When practicing cannibalism, however, you must your brains to yourself, even as part of a funeral ritual like in New Guinea. The people of New Guinea, despite Kuru, do not wish to change their rituals, as the brain is seen to be one of the most cherished parts of a person and to consume them is to let them live on inside of you. It is a sad thing that the dead cannot be consumed whole. It seems that we all make waste, no matter how hard we try. Whales, too, carry prions — or so we believe. It is likely but not studied. Whales are not often dissected for their brains, and when they are, those studying them are not primarily concerned with their various diseases of the mind. It is a tragedy that the dead cannot be brought to justice, and a further tragedy that the medicine of whales, like the medicine of plants, is so often ignored that it is nearly forgotten that it can exist at all. Horse owners forget that horses can have asthma, snake owners become confused as to why their snake does not like bright lights, and the studiers of whales are saddened when the subject of their years of study turns belly-up like a goldfish in the biggest bowl in the world.

    Take care, cannibals. And no, this has nothing to do with River Canon. Enjoy your newfound knowledge.

    Don't eat brains.

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