Who am I, never lost but cyclic ever changing
Way out to sea, humidity in clouds, now far above the river
Now I am the weather, rising, to my highest form, snow flakes, no two shapes the same
Why must I always be in change?
From such a height the weight of ice so cold and falling
Change again, thawing into rain
All is downwards now
Droplets making trickles
But if I look, a stream to brook and waterfall to river
Now the twisting coarse around rocks and logs ever onwards to the sea
Something deep in me, and briefly still
Then rushing rapids constantly, one more cleansing cycle that is me
Water, in the river.