On the verge of eros as the water consumes my body.
Sonance from the air can not touch my ears, but noises in the deep pierce them as I float.
It is both soft and strong, carrying my weight, yet tickling my every movement.
Healing, Calming.
Water sings a song that you can only swim in.
When back on land, it is more a rythm than a song. Crashing, rushing, falling, pattering and flooding.
Like a march.
Carving veins and caves into the earth; leaving scars behind as tales of the journey back to itself.
Water tells a story.
On of struggle and of life.
It is a teacher; a filler of our wisdom wells.
A master over all, for all can not be without it.
Sacred, holy, and magnificent.