Like a beaver I have damned the flow
from its source to make it trickle
into the vegetation needing nourishment.
Then I think that I can control
its constant push to move forward,
I will regulate it so that
it does not overwhelm the weeds
precious to my keeping.
Yet time and your everlasting mercy
press ever hard against
a haphazard knot of defenses
that once broken appear
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