come watch sounds of rivers in clouds

The water dripped off my hand, I held my fingers wide and really looked, really saw the rhythm pulsing under my discontent and ridiculous frenzy. This is my hand, to have and to hold with. I wanted so badly to touch her skin, to cool it. Feel the waxy softness in the water, under the desire and longing to be good again.

come to me and say, "this is all a ridiculous game and you will win, just let go..remember?"
you sit in that way and quietly ponder pains i have given you and with all your powerful will, you press on and again you say, "just let go..remember?"

yes I remember, only sometimes. I lay back in some car as you're driving on clouds and I look out the sunroof and pretend I'm falling, this is my letting go. I want to fall far enough to hit sound and press no further, stand and fall again until there is no need left.

And now, where is the water on my cool, pail hand? I want to dry slowly and care deeply without the clinging of adamant, ponderous impressions, demands and other frivolous itchy lace, waste.

In the water is a flow of time, the gurgling wet of my little world's history passes. Contemplate, my staring eyes trickle cool with shimmer, wandering muted color, spilling, mesmerized..

Set thee oh hand of mine,
into cool wet and sometimes brine,
bringing forth, stilling and forever dying,
for now everything and nothing is,
but time