Arjuna finds his first simile, and it is perfect. Rivers do not choose to flow into the ocean. They do not debate. They do not resist. The current carries them, and the ocean receives them. That is simply how water works. In exactly the same way, the heroes of the mortal world rush into Krishna's blazing mouths.
There is a strange comfort hidden inside this terrifying image. A river that merges into the ocean does not cease to exist. Its water becomes the ocean. The river's identity dissolves, yes — but what remains is something far vaster. The warriors pouring into the cosmic form are not being annihilated. They are returning to the source from which everything comes.
But Arjuna is not in a state to see that comfort yet. What he sees is the inevitability — the sheer, unstoppable pull. No river has ever turned around and flowed back to the mountains. And no warrior on that field will escape the mouths of Time.