by ELA
 

 Splashing on my face,

This water seems to have brought

   The dilemma of many days.

        Why, I wonder,

        Does it ponder,

Over the depths it could not reach,

Over the splendors it could not bleach.

    Falling as Rain,

Under the gravity of many hearts,

    It unfailingly leaves its trail,

         On every object.

         Yet many a object

          Seem to burn,

Ignited by the dearth of their senses,

Flamed by the floods of their penances.

         Water, Water,

         Not my eyes,

    But drench my soul.

    Imbibe in me the passion,

    To float on dead leaves.

    And when the need be,

    Dry up my ecstasy