I woke up from
(Nearly failed)
Open heart surgery, craving
Water.

In the bed to my left,
Another patient was already
Aware.
Old as stones, and as deaf as
A bucket of dirt.

Nurses all raised their voices,
Straining and struggling
To communicate.
Only every fifth word
Went through.

After a while his adult daughter
Came for a worried visit.
I only just made out their
Shapes in the post-surgery
Half-darkness and my
Morphine haze. She
Spoke to him in a soft voice; a
Hummed whisper,
Barely audible to others.

He answered in the same tone,
Not missing a syllable.

Dancing,
Thrashing,
Cascading

Down the barren stone tower,
Through the craggy, coarse cliffs
Refining, polishing the necessary features
And streaming for the duration of my adventure,
One might wonder: Why?

Why! Oh what a question—
To purify what will soon be soiled in a moment’s time,
And yet, unremittingly,
Over, ad nauseam, again.

I cannot die.
No agony or desolation can destroy me.
Amaranthine, ceaseless, everlasting!
I hold steadfast, staunch, unrelenting.

I am a waterfall.
Nought can destroy me.
I am forever...