Rain pours, weeping from the sky into the streams
of both the physical realm and the conscious.
I know what to make of the physical manifestation,
but often not so much of that which floods into my conscious mind.
As streams inevitably become rivers, picking up the pace,
these conscious streams transform into the same.
And as rivers become sea, my thoughts become me,
locked in the eternal relationship of shaping, changing, and emerging.
They become one with other streams and other rivers,
Our waters mingled into powerful oceans of being.