I see the solitary streams, the liquid veins of the continent,

Coursing through the canyons and the silent, tall-grassed prairies,

They do not hesitate! They march with a rhythmic, watery pulse,

Seeking the salt, the vastness, the restless cradle of the Atlantic and Pacific,

Toward the open arms—the wide, unmeasured, and democratic embrace of the Sea!

O, hear the respiration of the currents!

The rivers do not merely flow; they sigh with the weight of their traveling,

They call out to the tides, across the distance and the foam:

“Wait for me, O Mother! Wait for me, O infinite liquid destination!”

I see them, the lonely wanderers, merging at last,

No longer solitary, but absorbed into the grand, surging soul of the Deep.

©️ Beatriz Esmer