TRÜMMELBACH | THUNDER STREAM
Inside the dark heart of the mountain, cold and old and gleaming and indifferent to all outside moments, is a waterfall.
The stones have known that noise, unrelenting, for millennia. Carving the noise into their being; if they spoke, it would be of thunder. Each drop of water is a millisecond, is a grain of sand on the beach, is a star in the sky. The passing water beholds me, and I am almost immortal. But to the stones, I am a slight flutter in the breeze, and no more.
LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI
by Percy Bysshe Shelley c. 1816