Twin rivers born from a time before record,
One brewed in wakefulness; the other of slumber,
Creatures drank from both, remembering and forgetting,
Falling always to a leveled plain without slopes,
Floods came and forced them to the side of slumber,
And for years they were drunk of sweet forgetfulness,
Until a flood came again and forced them to the other,
Where they remembered everything with each bitter drop,
Of all the time that had been wasted in sour sleep,
And the soreness of that vision washed the village clean.