Here is an elegantly written piece of micro fiction, which John C Mannone describes as a prose poem that doesn’t use juxtaposition, yet is surreal. I was just blown away by the density and depth of the chosen words that makes this poetic picture one to never to leave your mind:
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The river writhes through narrow chambers, crisscrossing into reticulation of arteries mapping the heart of earth. For a moment, I’m smaller than a drop of that water dissolving through rock; smaller than a microbe propelling inexorably to the source of life, to the laughter of rain, to the brass-brilliant sun, to the hero of creation.