Revisionist Poetry – “River of Balancing Things” – Uncertain Sculptures, v.2

Along the riverbank I wander,
gathering stones for my brittle towers,
not for anything lasting,
only for the brief astonishment of balance.

The river keeps its own counsel,
moving softly past my knees,
as I turn each stone in my palms,
feeling weight, grain, coldness, edge.

The sun warms my shoulders.
I crouch. I try again.
One rock. Then another.
A shape begins to hold its breath.

Each new stone asks more of the last.
Each placement courts collapse.
And still I build—
a small defiance against vanishing.

Here, by the water’s shifting margin,
I learn the freedom of the unstable:
that beauty may rest
only while it is becoming.