Water

It rushes of its own accord

through the river-veins of the world,

rises to the call

of the pale, magnetic moon. 

It smooths and smashes,

flows and floods,

carries and kills. 

As it wills, so it does.

It flows through time, unstoppable,

in springs and wells and aqueducts. 

In palaces and pauper’s huts

And life, with rain, is possible.

Without its moisture,

dry breath would cease.

The cracked earth would crumble

and find no relief.

Small wonder living water

falls from Heaven, bringing peace.