It is a recurring cycle of an event, natural for them, with no judgment beyond this.
The sounds and smells of it tell us that it is happening. There is a great mixing of water. Filthy grey sludge slowly oozes from a pipe.
The factory’s waste plops ungraciously into the crystal clear running water of the stream. They know each other when they meet. It is a mingling that times past has made known to each. The narrow liquid band of running water moves quickly along its jagged path beneath the pipe, striking the pocked contours of its banks. It gathers up what falls. There is no contention here; no rebuttal, no disapproval.
The greater body of water maintains its steady flow, mindful of its duties to serve other elements, to be steadfast in its purpose. There is no issue here; no judgment or speculation. Both parties are subject to the rules of Mother Nature. They both abide by these.
Moving steadily towards some distant sea, they embrace one another in a broiling agitation of swirling movement. Crystal returns to clear soon after, with brown no longer seen. They are joined in an unseen fusion. The two, with equal resolve, move on with a relentless and persistent flow in the same direction.
The rivulet winds on with the permission and commendation of nature. These two have no issues with the event. There is no judgment or contemplation beyond this…