This is a pretty bad poem as far as poems go, but I just can't get rid of the river from my mind.
This river is two rivers in one -- it has a surprising journey and something quite sad is happening to this river.
She begins to become
from the creator’s breath
that descends from the firmament,
Gliding on wings of dew from the eternal feet of mount Kailash
on a 1200 kilometer road she paves by herself,
feeding the verdant flora with the iridescent blue
of the cloud bedecked skies,
Narrowing to a mere 4 meters, almost 6000 feet deep,
she dances deep as the grandest of all canyons in the world,
Till her fiery Tigress force cuts around Namcha Barua
A Mountain Tiger, like a watery sword,
The tangle lasts all of 270 degrees, and she finally flies way,
falls, almost 10000 feet
through blinding forest of deep dark green,
where she morphs to become
BrahmaPutra, the creator's son
who merges with the sea,
rises to the firmament,
and begins a new becoming.