by Justine Camacho-Tajonera
The water slowly soaks up the paper.
It takes its time,
moving from one corner
upwards, outwards, spreading,
pinning the paper to the surface
of the table.
It takes its time
whether anyone watches
or not.
There are things that cannot be rushed.
There are things that cannot be stopped.
If I do nothing more,
the water will still run its course.
Image from Lostandtaken.com
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