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“My waters rise from the source, deep in the earth, from secret caverns, hidden pockets of spirit. A rumble of bass moves through limestone tunnels, upward and onward, around curves, gathering chords, minor and major, until out flows a song, azure and cerulean, plucked from sunshine and moonbeam. Some say my music echoes your soul, harmonizes with fears and longings, calls forth your own song, until it spills out in liquid jewels. If, of course, you are worthy. My waters sing of death too, a low drumbeat that rattles the bones. There are those of you who bring out the river dragon in me. And my gaping mouth swallows you whole.” — Laura Resau
My waters rise from the source, deep in the earth, from secret caverns, hidden pockets of spirit. A rumble of bass moves through limestone tunnels, upward and onward, around curves, gathering chords, minor and major, until out flows a song, azure and cerulean, plucked from sunshine and moonbeam.
Some say my music echoes your soul, harmonizes with fears and longings, calls forth your own song, until it spills out in liquid jewels.
If, of course, you are worthy.
My waters sing of death too, a low drumbeat that rattles the bones.
There are those of you who bring out the river dragon in me.
And my gaping mouth swallows you whole.