The river flowed at his feet,
Giving him a choice,
To either live or perish.
Turning away, he would choose life,
But entering it, he would death...
But the waters, slow-footed, flowed away,
And he knew his sorrow to be ephemeral.
That too would flow away, irrevocable....
This philosophy well learnt,
He stept back; he chose life.
Krishnarasa Seshadri
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-river-38/
