What makes you think you hold anything?
If I stop trying all slips through.
We're seeing things for the last time every time.

Don't you want to know how you feel to others?
That's impossible. All I need to know is movement.
How every leaf or body sets the waves within me.

What about submerging, drowning or dangers?
Yes, merging. Suffering's strangely meaningful.
There's no forgetting my imposed carrying,
the suction & sinking, the bloated summer stink.
I, too, know pushing up & bearing down.

Do you consider the earth your father? The ocean a mother?
Too much feels like my father these days.
Erosion & devastation, the roots exposed. Mom
still making waves. The endless drift downstream.

A stream, like a sister?
Anything allowed becomes family.
Stop fearing all the silty decisions; the damned buildup.
The sky gives & fills despite what we do to it.

Do you consider hydration holy?
Yes. Returning to essence is often ascension.

What can you hear that isn't muffled by movement?
The hum of my fluid plan unfolding & fracturing.

Do you ever miss silence?
Not in billions of years. You misunderstand sound.
You think it's something you can get closer to.
Really, it's within you. Listen.

Where are you going?
Same place as you.
I'm not exactly convergent or divergent.

How has your landscape changed?
I acknowledge the softening erosion, the sad departure
of foundation. Structure is lacking. I try to appreciate
settling; so much finally, beneath.

Why do you insist on reflecting?
There's no other way.
You came here to find yourself.