The Flow of Time (North II)

My first stop on my expedition north was at the Black Rock Nature Preserve, which features sandstone cliffs and, we guessed it, a black rock.

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There is not much to do, but I didn’t ask for it, and the steep climb down the cliffs rewards with satisfying views.

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The preserve borders at the Wabash, with becomes a few hundred miles further south a tributary to the Ohio.

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Unlike time, a river’s past and future are certain. But this certainty has the disadvantage that it nurtures the desire to be elsewhere. If I entrust myself to these waters here, I will be in New Harmony after a while. 

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What certainty was I given when I was entrusted time?

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Certainty and time can both be merciless, each in their own way.

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