“Is it sin, which makes the worm a chrysalis, and the chrysalis a butterfly, and the butterfly dust?” — Max Muller
- This cascade
- That falls eternally through space
- Actually has an end
- Though we will not be there to see it
- Measured in lengths like tree lives
- Our waterfall has a heartbeat
- It is measured in exceptionally large
- Bursts of spray
- Who can see into the future
- Past waterfalls, past civilizations:
- Only he who shapes the future
- Can see the future
Dark Sport 
what’s happening right now, is what will, shape the future, we may not know what will happen next, but, we can, try to, change what’s to come, for the, better.
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The average person has no more contact with the future’s shape than does a puddle of water have lasting life in the harsh glare of sunlight.
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I really appreciate the way you describe the waterfall as having a heartbeat – it resonates deeply with Indigenous teachings, especially those shared by Ailton Krenak. Krenak often speaks of rivers and natural landscapes as living beings, capable of teaching us about resilience and transformation. There’s nothing outdated in Indigenous thought; in fact, these ideas align closely with the Gaia theory, seeing Earth as a living, interconnected system.
If there’s one thing that gives me hope, it’s rivers – as Krenak sayed – , they’re always flowing, always renewing, and are never the same, as Heraclitus would put it. Like rivers, our perspectives can change too; we can alter our course, even as we carry memories of where we’ve been.
Your poem captures that kind of intensity and openness to transformation, and it reminds me that even as nature can be relentless, it also holds endless potential for change. Even if that’s not your intention with the poem, I couldn’t care less – the author is dead, and I’ll interpret it however I want. If you doesn’t like my take, you can go kick rocks – or read more of my texts.
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Beautiful comment, Victor. You have more than a touch of grace and poetry to your most casual prose utterances. I have to go pretty soon (I’m paying for this time at the internet cafe on Seymour St. in Vancouver) but I’ll check out some of your writings and, if the computer actually works, leave some more comments.
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