Here's some transitory knowledge: watching water relentlessly surging over the spillway of the dam is a bit like watching the campfire long after the sun has disappeared....it doesn't get old too soon.
Heraclitus observed that one "cannot step into the same river twice," the second time you dabble a toe, you're in new water, the water you splashed the first time is gone, downstream, swirling out of sight, immediately out of mind.
The moths in scattering flight around the campfire mimic the ragged action of the flames, never the same trajectory, repeatedly tracing new patterns in the light and through the shadows, taunting the licks and darts of flame and sparks that pull your gaze always back to the fire pit....
The spoiling flow over the dam has more power, but no more charm than the fire....spontaneous animation mixes through the inanimate sameness of it all, action is born and dies all in the moment, you know, of course, that you've seen it before....
...but this time it's just a little more....you know what I mean....
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