water remembered me

water has memory.

we had an impressive conversation,

amounting into tears.

it was a liquidity of canvass drawn.

it was emotion, 

as the artist's efforts on display.

for water to tell

in a language spoken so pure,

as gravity became the soul listener.

I asked evaporative to overhear,

as if secrets fill my sky untold.

and what I heard back 

upon memory's recall,

was that a train of thought

wandered through an emotional wasteland,

deep with low clouds of expectations

and fog-like smolderings of unresolved gloom.

it was a palate of circumstance,

buried deep within my transit sense of being.

me, a rider in that moment.

journey expecting to turn me into wings.

how do close quarters come on so fast?

how does immediacy, without permission,

breathy answer to my face?

the train, by passage, spoke to me.

the emotional language was all verbs

and I was the noun of the resulting action.

tears saved me from fateful demise,

post downfall still standing.

my tears cascading in storylines.

water knows, knows the whole truth.

even better than I have memory . . .