condensation was one of the first words that ever fascinated me. held me. for three days straight I sheltered leaves with left over plastic bags
waited for the droplets to form, took the bag and let them run down onto my hands
and the word was there, covering the grey plastic, dripping from my fingers onto the grass below my feet.
the water follows everywhere. it falls as a waterfall down the back of my mind and rushes in concentric circles behind my eyes that build and grow like the tide til I ride them downstream and begin to leave worries behind
they run ahead of me and lay me out to dry, rinse me until I am ice cold, covered in frost, waiting and panting but so very un-lost
like a quarry filled with the most ecstatic blue and minerals deposited with waste that may or may not be able to drown a person in poison and cover them in sparkling silt at the same time, the words are vengeance and renewal and the breaking down of every large thing into the finest sand.
you can build a mountain from your thoughts. but make no mistake, the water is stronger than the dirt. it will forge paths for you, break down monuments for you, stop traffic for you. take you until all you need to do is keep yourself from drowning.
it is never done with you. like all the lakes rivers and seas on earth you will find yourself connected, circling and re-circling back into the same shallows and gullies, diving deeper with more strength, more assurance, a greater elation.
crashing into rocks in a violent tumble. pieces in the sea. pieces on the land. the steam of your breath.