Water’s met in many forms
From sunlit seas to murky waves.
It falls as rain in summer storms
And lies like death in open graves.

It ripples on the steady stream
And cuts a course through cataracts.
When heated, it appears as steam.
As ice, it spans the vastest tracts.

In spite of this, it’s water still
And godly precious, every bit –
Why Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch themselves a pail of it.

And consciousness is much the same –
At once the sunlight and the flame.

Photo by Hans Isaacson on Unsplash

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