Sometimes I feel like a waterfall
wrestling with gravity I am heavy and
torrential and endlessly crashing
Somehow I spill
into the canals dug by words,
Slowing, a stream, rolling along soft
clay. What I see is
a stream of consciousness moving forward.
What I see is
the endless play of elements
as I sit on a
cool, slippery slab of stone
remembering that I am within and without.
I am not an uncontrollable tide of water.
I am not the victim of my own force, lost in the ultimatum of
the approaching edge, the imminent fall.
I observe: endless helixes of trickling water.
A reflection in my eyes
a symphony in my ears.
Now I am
becoming a vessel: learning to create and sustain.
By Shreya Manna ©
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