water
i love water, for sadness and tears are so cleverly hidden in its bountiful presence, be it in the bathtub or the swimming pool. however, there has to be at least a substantial amount or flow to caress your face. it then consumes your pain and sorrow, and drowns the salinity of your tears in its giant mass.
it sympathizes with you, as the overcast sky begins to break, as it beats down on your back in great torrents, as though saying, 'cheer up dear brother, the sun will be out again.'
water does not fight back. it does not hurt when your fist connects with it, and the cold, wet sensation douses anger and frustration. it slowly morphs its shapeless form into a massive upward explosion, so virile, so potent, yet collapses ever so gently on your tear-stricken face. you can scream till your lungs burst from exhaustion in its vacuous mass and it will still be silent.
it is ever so calm, stately and peaceful; so soothing with its gentle rhythm - the lapping of the waves against the sand-strewn beach, the ever-widening ripples in a pond, your swimming pool as the water leaps in and out of the drains surrounding it, the pitter-patter of raindrops on the parched ground.
it is silent, still and feeling, never asking, always accomodating, always gentle, always receiving, always giving.
i love water.
it sympathizes with you, as the overcast sky begins to break, as it beats down on your back in great torrents, as though saying, 'cheer up dear brother, the sun will be out again.'
water does not fight back. it does not hurt when your fist connects with it, and the cold, wet sensation douses anger and frustration. it slowly morphs its shapeless form into a massive upward explosion, so virile, so potent, yet collapses ever so gently on your tear-stricken face. you can scream till your lungs burst from exhaustion in its vacuous mass and it will still be silent.
it is ever so calm, stately and peaceful; so soothing with its gentle rhythm - the lapping of the waves against the sand-strewn beach, the ever-widening ripples in a pond, your swimming pool as the water leaps in and out of the drains surrounding it, the pitter-patter of raindrops on the parched ground.
it is silent, still and feeling, never asking, always accomodating, always gentle, always receiving, always giving.
i love water.
3 Comments:
It flows too quickly through your life sometimes.
Water is beautiful; its consistency in transience.
Always there, but unable to be grasped.
So real is the touch, its like giving an ending and beginning to whatever you are feeling.
Great post.
I like this.
Actually, as a martial artist, I can tell you that it hurts when you punch water. Still, nice post.
-Ronald
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