At brittle afternoon sun of June, high hills showed its top almost touched by all the light.
   The dark shadow of its high altitude made strong drawing along green dale laid down on hill's feet; this one alike caring and wise mothers who have so much to teach to the high and proud hills.

Sacrifices are enforced to the one who knows its own fate and is able to understand its future like a way to harvest the best fruits.
   From the illuminated one is requested much more than usual, because he can give much more.
   There was life in this hill only due the wilderness of its way.
   Everything kept unchanged, as the earliest day... In the springtime all the nature blooms and grow up, in the Winter they die, but there is a remaining certainty about a return of another cycle of life.

Sweet water always streamed downhill, as a summer's creek, in that hot season. The sensation which was given for it was still dearer than the breeze when it blew in the hot June's evenings.

From above, the top looked at the magnificent valley and hill, after passing the springtime.
   The summertime soon after following, it was a pure sight, made of light, color and life which did the frozen mountain's water changed into a mild stream going down hill, and it was hush into its whish to arrive.

- Where do you want to arrive to? - one day questioned one wild flower, born among the cold rocks of the hills, hanged by the sweet breeze, challenging the air with its beauty, while stood itself in tall strong face each wind's change.
   - No matter place, I don't mind where - answered the stream - I got up there at hill's top for so long... I knew the winter's sky, where the twilight kept me prisoner... I was not water in that age, I was tough and cold. And now I want much more
   - It is pleasant to move, to change. As long as you were not happy, try to be from now on, but I know that is useless to look for what we don't know...
   - I don't mind - said again the stream, this time upset, because it wanted to go on its journey which the little flower disturbed - You wouldn't exist if I didn't slip thru this mountain like I do now. You need me to you so short and ephemera life!

The little flower got silent. It knew it would go on alive yes. It could always count on the good rain which came wet it, and it was this way that it grew up, wild, beautiful, the only one at middle of those tough stones.
   - You are milder now, and its stream is faster, and you may follow the way you want to go.
   - Yes! - Replied the stream of water, very proudly - Now I am really another one, and anyone can see it. I am free; I am not tough and cold anymore.
   But the water was mistaken, thought the little flower. It could look like different, but it really wasn't. The water had just been pretty proud, as considered it itself better than before. The water had told also something to hurt the little flower, kept it aware of the brevity of its days…
   There were few moments ago, it was so glad, playing with the sweet wind which put its petals on high, as if it was the face of one beautiful maiden, making it forget its future, which maybe it wouldn't have… making it to live at the intensity without lines of the only day.
   However, the water went down from distant top, none boundary got to stop it, and it was living not for the day which it had, but for the uncertain future which it'd want and know... it would reach out.
   The poor flower laid down its petals as a sad face. The ancient breeze didn't get bring back the joy. The flower knew.... there wouldn't be future from that day on...
   But to the water would have, it would have future. The water was important. It served to the goats, to the valleys. It was good that it reached what it intended, even that it wouldn't know what it intended.

And the water went on; rush into its certainty... its destiny would be great.And there wasn't anything able to stop it. It passed over the stones, sprung itself down hill as something which nothing could hold out.
   And still prouder of its strength, it not even remembered of that simple flower, which life was like a whisper, soon not even the wind'd remember that it had touched the flower one day.
   But the flower looked at the water, noticing it was becoming stronger each time more, the ice melt from the hill's top, and then its volume was bigger.
   That lonely flower bred there, though all hard time due the altitude, felt itself so sad... neither for being concerned about its own short-living fate nor for having the proud and haughty water pointing at flower's weakness and showing off its own powered strength and freedom.
   The flower was feeling blue for being so lonely and the history of its own lifetime was enclosed in a brief memory about the wind, wind that, the flower knew, would forget it as soon as the breeze was blown away.

Day time was running fast its rote, so soon after the little flower could notice its brittle and petty shade to follow making a way similar to the ones made by the hand of a watch, on the dark stone of the hill.
   But the evening was not appearing yet and each leaf of its corolla was still alive, and they were bright beneath that good and heat rays of sun.
   Then, suddenly, somewhat big appeared with its great shadow above all little green grass carpet on which the flower had grown green grass that was the only color everywhere the sight could reach through all cold and gray hills.
   The noisy shadow could touch with its cask on the rock, bringing again to the memory the same sound from the little gravel's that slipped down hill once in a while from there above.
   The small flower thought of that as if it was meaning its own end, and that noise was requested to know that was to happen and it was to understand and to know the sun, that day and that life were not, anymore, a thing belonged to itself! Then, the flower closed its eyes, in a kind of a silent farewell, from the one who has nothing to expect but the own final time. But, even though all that, the flower could still feel the wind was still able to feel the sun. Although, being with the eyes closed, the flower could only feel.
   Some time was passed and the little flower, which not even dared to open in a blink its eyes, finally was taken for all its guts and decided that was in time to figure all that out. and the flower noticed all the way moving itself and the hill was rolling beside; although the flower was not able to travel freely as the water could do, it was following a way similar to the stream. The flower was going down the hill!
   - How can it be? - the flower couldn't refrain itself from questioning that.
   - What can be happening?
   The stream of water soon perceived the little flower beside and could not get the fact of the flower was running the same way that it was doing.
   And as the speed was the same, both of them were reaching the valley at same time and that was quite unfair, after all, it was the water the strong element there, it was the one which had left all jealousy the top of the hill and from there above, traveled upon stones, following the speed of the wind, and now... it was obliged to share its same way with that one even feet was holder and however was there, beside, and running as fast as itself, the water.

It wasn't fair... besides the water had waited all winter long up to the day its drops were ready to go down hill... and from there was opened a whole lifetime to live freely without being aware about its own destiny to arrive; and was that feeling what fulfilled its soul with still more vigor.
   And what about that flower?... what did it understand about perpetuity?
   So soon it'd be died out like a brief blow of life. What would worth traveling downhill and to know only the liberty is able to offer? What for?
   The flowers wish it could understand what was making that moving and was leading it so fast through the long hill. After all, what was leading it?

And just when the flower looked closer could be conscious to the fact: It was on that way as a clandestine traveler.
   A mountain goat had found in the green grass on the fissure where the little flower had found birthplace for its life before, the perfect foodstuff, and meanwhile was biting with hungry the green and young slice thrown out, the little flower was sure that moment was enough to live yet and although being the shortest moment of all its life, already so brief before, the flower could know more than its dreams of adventure in that few days of its grounded life were able to give it inspiration.
   Life was actually beautiful, not even the water that ran through the hill could have seen and felt all that the little flower could see now.
   The goat ran through wide fields, so wide and beautiful that the water would never be able to see, so that it was locked in that narrow stream. And then if it was not the flower about to be crushed into the hunger of the little goat, the flower saw, saw the life... and how amazing and pretty was.
   Something within the flower was beating... if it was its heart would not be so much... the sensation that it would never die.
   A weird eternity, that was already about to disappear so soon and completely. But the sun, the freedom, the wind, the so wide fields seem to come in as a sweet juice inside the tiny flower in the right instant that the goat was feeding itself from the little flower together with other grass slices and others, and others.

The water passed right beside it and thought about that foolishness of the little flower:
   - Silly flower... it faded completely, however it believed itself free, so full of life! If I could I had spoken once more... I am a favorite, I got the freedom, and I do with it what I want to do... I came down that hill, and now I will go to far away... anything can hold out my destiny.
   And so, the water, looking like mad, came down making damage, at dry edge through its way.

Suddenly it stopped. The water didn't follow. The sky above didn't change; the landscape of its borders was the same. The water didn't resign, it tried go on, using all its strength and will.
   But there was not the gradient which the hill gives to it at beginning, it was weak now, and only when it noticed where it was...
   Many men had worked hardly along all the winter in order to build a barrage. It was a long-drawn-out-time, watching the winter going away slowly, bringing the springtime and through it the ice's melt of the crest of hill, which so useful'd be along the warm months whose were coming.

The water, quiet, couldn't neither go, nor come back.
   It watched the days passing by, people taking possession of its bed, leaving it each time emptier, and it, the water which cry out being so strong, untamed, invincible, now it had not the world to meet, anymore... it only could see the little piece which the reservoir ( made from itself) allowed it to see, and even that, each day its sight was narrow, cause its water ran out of at each moment that someone from the village or some thirsty animal served of its water.
   The springtime came strong, as it, the water intended to be one day... soon, something amazing happened before its narrow sight of the world.
   Hundreds, not, maybe thousand of flowers, all of them one of a kind, an offspring from that same flower that intended to be eternal one day before. Blossomed there, the fields where there were only the green color, before. Its single color spread along all meadows... and along the hill as well.
   The held water saw, noticed, but didn't believe in that. But it was truth. The small flower got its Immortality.
   Its seeds were scattered to everywhere. When the goat led the flower from hill to the meadows, it multiplied a thousand times, and covered all spaces.
   People came from everywhere, and when took the held water, they got enchanted to the flowers, so beautiful and that never been seen there before, and they picked up some of them, and led them to far distances, so its seeds once more felt, would born far away from there, and that 'd be seeds from more hundreds whose 'd carry in themselves the history from that single flower its inherit, each time further , crossing boundaries, rivers, reaching points of the hill where it was born, beyond of destiny made from sea intended for the water one day.
   Confused, held, reduced, the water, by now wasn't not even the desire's shade from before, desires which made it so strange, so haughty indeed.

It was weak... looked at sky and by the fist time it figured out how much it had been cruel and selfish... as now it figured out the life.
   Most of time the strength and vigor are recall to insensibility while the pain that it felt when realized itself impotent towards its destiny... changed it so totally, that now there was a memory which made it bleeds still more.
   Today, while it cried, it wasn't of the sea that the water remembered, and wasn't its desire in overcome that ways what give to it any comfort, but its home's memory, the crest of hill, which served to it for so long, and from when it only wanted to run away.
   It had been happy when was there, even in that inertness, being still ice, it really had been happy.
   The hill was wide, seen from the top, and the hope for the freedom in a day, was what gave it strength to hold on, in that gentle cradle; and only now it realized... at that time it had already a great treasure: it was loved, cared for the top, that hill should have been forever its home, cause, now it wouldn't be reduced, ruined, stood still, and soon wouldn't rest one single drop of its water in that reservoir, soon it wouldn't exist anymore.
   - Why do you look so sad? - one little flower at edge from the reservoir, looked to it above, and if was right that it seemed reduced, the flower didn't see reasons to so much sadness.
   - Soon, I won't exist anymore, and I didn't care about the place where I born, to die alone now, I should never have left my home.
   The little flower, grandchild from that single of one day already so distant from that day, figured out much more the things than it showed:
   - But if you didn't notice its place, what would worth going there for? Something was good before everything that happened to you, now you know where you belong; you have what to love...
   The water almost fading away beneath the sun which reduced it still more and it hear the flower under a strange resignation and attention.
   - Do you know, once upon a time, someone alike you told me words that I couldn't hear, because I only could hear my own selfish wishes. I believed it was so inferior, so miserably short lived its existence, that I couldn't figure out the strength existent in simplicity... in the destiny. You are one great proof that life is not "today" only, it isn't just an avalanche of desires, as myself was one day... desires don't lead to nowhere, the truth does.
   That little flower had in itself seeds of life, so it never died, but look at me. I can't stand me alive; I have no seeds of mine to scatter through this life... I will die... I know.
   The little flower, allowed to a warm breeze kissed it of the same way that first flower did... and at this moment it got in a glance to see all the others sisters of your, along the field and hill, all of them alive and beautiful... they were the proof of a strong destiny which didn't allow their death.
   - Well... I know just a little about life... but something inside, make me believe that one "tomorrow" will always be... I feel this wind in my petals and although knowing that soon I will fade away, I feel as if one ancient history was still inside me... making me bow when the wind blows, making me happy for knowing... I am not alone!
   The water had a moment of relief and comfort to hear it and told:
   - They are memories whose you really bring inside you... there was a single one of you one day, and it received the wind in its petals, and I fell me happy for having lived at least the day of today. I know that you are almost going away from here. But I want you to know that to look at you were a thing which always left me tranquil, cause long time there is no rain, and looking at you I knew that I wouldn't die thirsty... so, come what may, know you that we thank you...
   The little flower said that, in a sincere goodbye, because the water already faded away at all from water tank. There wasn't a drop of water any more. The last had evaporated cause the strong sun.
   All of flowers knew... that water wouldn't be lenitive from the hot days forward.
   But, at sunrise, many clouds appeared at sky. The little flower looked at gray day, guessing what'd come at once. One copious rain as a bless to its dry petals fell along hours and hours, filling up the repress, that flowed at a flowing stronger than that, of the down hill, and it overcame any limitation, meeting a new way to passes through.
   The flower knew that its seeds'd live, cause the soil was ready, after that generous and waited rain. But when the reservoir got full, and start following to far away from there, one of drops of all that rain stopped ahead it:
   - Look at me. I was ice, later I was a great volume of water, I thought I had disappeared, but I am still from everything I was, this single and small drop of water, I am alive! And it is hat matters... I was changed into part of those clouds when the sun dried me up... but it is just changed me into steam, and now I am water again, i don't know where I will reach out.
   The little flower knew where the water'd reach, and glad, it admired its courage of now, and told:
   - If you loved your home, I tell you that you will go to far away for now, but believe me... you will return.
   The water wouldn't want to question its destiny, anymore, not even; it would want to dream again about desires as wide as the sea. It just'd want what the little flower said it, so self-confidence... it'd want to come back to its home.
   - Goodbye - said the water - I know, I will return.
   Perhaps, both of them'd meet themselves once more, living a different history and far away from this time which they lived for now, but it'd be there, exactly there, where everything'd happen, both believed. And when that'd happen, both'd be stronger, wiser and'd bring new histories of their experience of life, it was just a matter of time.
   The drop of water mixed into the strong stream which the rain increased each time more, and at hill's end the drop saw one wide river, and feel itself wide as well, it was not one simple drop of water anymore, it felt the edges, the breeze, the strength of stream which didn't stop. But there isn't neither proud nor vanity in this destiny, it was just good to feel its cycle incessant.
   Soon opened ahead it, such a wide horizon, in which it saw one infinite blue, touching sky and earth like in a heavenly meeting. White waves hit the shore coming from distances, and it was made of this distance which it came from... it right now was part of ocean, from its salty taste that now was its destiny.
   - I am the sea! - said it in a whisper - one small part of the sea - the drop which changed into a wide river, now it was small once again, inside such a large sea. Its destiny had been full filled, it understood what means to be ocean, what was to have the horizon to kiss. Its hush soul, had still more space, and love for its first homeland, when it intended too much and didn't figure out that it had already everything... one single drop of water was ENOUGH, and it didn't figure out at that time. It had been just one drop of its water that met and knew the world... it is just a spark of quick to learn to be ocean, and for now all that it wanted was back home, and to tell to the ice which it was one day, that it had no haste in being water again to it to live its own time without torments, to it to be what it was... at each time.
   So, one mild but too warm wind blew on the sea at this moment. The water felt a sweet dope changing it into steam once again. The wind stronger and colder blew it once more towards the river, and still colder, blew it to the highest hill...
   And colder than ever had been before, the wind kissed it above the crest of hill. Becoming it into ice, covering at wintertime, that returned the same hill from its early days. The water slept in its cradle, without looking forward the next Summer, it was ice right now and it'd have time to teach its history for any other of its sisters, frozen drops from other season, or maybe it allowed them to make mistake, cause this way, they could learn through their self experience about what'd exist in their ways, their destinies.
   It only had hope that for all of them, there was also some wise flower, that into its short existence made from an only single day, 'd teach them to be eternal.