My mind is a liquid desperately seeking solid form. It begins with a faint drip tracing the ageless curvature it so happens to fall into and building to a great surging force rushing with violent urgency to be lost in a boundless indiscreet homogeneous mass. In the end it is quietly transformed to a calmly rising vapor floating serenely in the warm softness. Discreetly it collects tiny floating remnants of the earth it dreamt away from until the weight of the home it cannot forget draws it crashing again into the solid form it can never be but must pass over or through or under to repeat the cycle again.
But each repetition is never the same. This time there is a sharp turn. Next time there may be a long still visitation with mornings of glassy reflection. Sometimes a new undiscovered course is gently carved in the rigid form that simultaneously imprisons and releases it. They say it happened once that the water like great thunder tore through the unyeilding old earthen mounds and the rock knew for a moment what it meant to be like the water that circulates through its encrusted veins. And the ageless progenitor was changed forever. And there will be a time like that again.
Today though, as in most days, the soft rains will whisper melodies, the rivers will speed along their rails, the old lakes will ponder their energetic youth, marshes will fester and seethe with envy to be rivers, and the seas will be filled but never full...
teeming with life.
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