I am the only one who hears them. They are the only ones who are near me. Six quiet streams endless and volatile like my emotions. Six who constantly move without anyone noticing. Six long roads of water in a field just moving. From the side of the road they are easy to hear, but when it’s too dark to see them most just walk by.
Their duty is secret. They obliterate all in their path. They go straight through the earth, carrying water, fish and small rocks and algae from ponds to oceans sparing nothing else till their goal. This is why they exist.
Let one stop in it’s tracks, they’d all dry up like old oil, each ignorant of each other. Move, move, move, they do, even in this silence. They feel.
When I am alone and too unneeded, when my path is obstructed by some rock, then it is I listen to the streams. When I feel alone in the dark night. Six who move despite the rocks. Six who move despite the silence. Six whose only reason is to go and go.