Try to hold water in your hands
Try to hold water in your hands -
it’s obvious -
with time -
increasing volumes exacerbates this problem.
Our carry-bottles are full, no doubt, but-
the labelled essence is diluted
until it is nothing but water which we regardless pour cordially
on drought-ground that is ever-thirsty.
Better to rely on some familiar pools -
they lie in the shade of concurrent elms,
replenished by hidden springs,
enough hopefully to keep them from stagnating -
and maintain the illusion that it’s the same water.
Invite others to drink a draught only,
whilst keeping the secret;
they are led blindfold to the water’s edge.
Water’s secret: it only lends itself to us for our mass -
a transubstantiation devoid of significance.
Let us not be disconsolate:
we can redraft; be as free from the story-past’s taint,
from guilty templates and invisible scars
as this empty air,
which shakes out a formless laugh at remembrance.
