In my hand I see:
The tropical delta.
Blood rushes downhill,
Pushing to the fingertips.
My rivulets are warm,
When they bring me to your stream.
At the beginning you are February.
Life is hidden, dormant below.
My touch creates wetness on the ice.
Slickness, the first sign.
Cracks split, a thaw.
The timeless rhythm returns.
I have been here before,
On this creek bed.
I know the walls of each shore.
The center, where the stream flows.
The center, where the boil bubbles.
Life returns to the surface,
Forcing its way through.
The first budding,
Then every color.
What was slow, runs fast.
The body unfurls as a sail.
Ice shattered, rapids blasting.
Rivers are hints of the eternal source,
That is why they lay so close to the womb.
Once resting, then restive,
The force is now unstoppable.
No resistance, no taming.
Stream out, scream out.
The tropical delta.
Blood rushes downhill,
Pushing to the fingertips.
My rivulets are warm,
When they bring me to your stream.
At the beginning you are February.
Life is hidden, dormant below.
My touch creates wetness on the ice.
Slickness, the first sign.
Cracks split, a thaw.
The timeless rhythm returns.
I have been here before,
On this creek bed.
I know the walls of each shore.
The center, where the stream flows.
The center, where the boil bubbles.
Life returns to the surface,
Forcing its way through.
The first budding,
Then every color.
What was slow, runs fast.
The body unfurls as a sail.
Ice shattered, rapids blasting.
Rivers are hints of the eternal source,
That is why they lay so close to the womb.
Once resting, then restive,
The force is now unstoppable.
No resistance, no taming.
Stream out, scream out.
