water.

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water

Everything on the earth bristled, the bramble
pricked and the green thread
nibbled away, the petal fell, falling
until the only flower was the falling itself.
water is another matter,
has no direction but its own bright grace,
runs through all imaginable colors,
takes limpid lessons
from stone,
and in those functionings plays out
the unrealized ambitions of the foam.

 

– pablo neruda


					
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35 responses »

  1. I always think of the patient strength of water, that it can support the weight of anything, wear through the earth to create canyons. Yet, it’s soft and enveloping and sustains life, too. Beautiful photo and poem combination.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Pingback: 5 Blog Post I’d Recommend You Read

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