The river rambles into a pool by my feet, where depths of green eddy. Water flowing gently over water, the Slinky of Life.

On weaves the water gently, carrying my hopes with it. On it rushes, through and over and round and under, from sparkling fall and hushed pool, upended rocks and sunken leaves, on through the forest and the too tall trees, the sun keeping time all the while.

Little coloured leaves kiss the lips of slowly swirling pools. Soon they'll slip away unannounced, or else stripped bare of their chlorophyll, they'll struggle to the last, until no more than their pale bones remain.

Roots writhe in their struggle for survival, clawing their way through the blanket undergrowth, their mangled fingers and hands cupped to capture the riches of the forest in their race to the stars.

Vines mesh the trees in a chain-mail of confusion, their torsos twist and turn into spirals and helixes, coiling from fern to palm to tree, protected by their thick skins and lonelier hearts.

Sand banks shine where the river is calm, grains deposited one by one. Shingles emerge in the pit of a bend, sparkling in the light, stranded in the sun.

Where the river hurries down a hill, the jasper’s shiny armour glows fire orange and bright under the white whirlpools. Into the rock each grain of sand scours age-lines of ancient trees, burrowing water-logged warrens where only dim creatures lurk.

Treasures we covet so highly huddle beneath the surface, carried by the waters from cloud and sea and forest. Their turn will come soon enough. Hacked from their context, hewn and cut and burnt and buffed. Dragged to a new home where the air is stale with dead skin and cigarettes.

Treasures which sparkle, treasures which shine, treasures to bring health to mankind...

Listen to the river tell its tale of becoming, listen to the wind bring news from afar, listen to the birds and the insects and the butterflies flutter, listen to your heart, lulled to a rhythm where all seems to make sense.

In each and every drop of the mass of the whole, lies the energy. Carried by its will, willed by its power.

The greatest truths are simple, crystal clear through the open lids of reality’s eye. Water flows gently over water, orchestrating the strings of Life.


 This site forms part of the much larger website Please visit it for further background, travel information, maps, contacts, bibliography and guidance on the amazing Gran Sabana...
Travels in the Lost World -- © Dominic Hamilton 2002-7