A river black, is rising, drinking water for the wolves.
Violently the foam engulfs the rocks in a lovely roaring song.
The reflection of the hanging moon, haunting.
The dark filling my eyes, how shallow, the life once was.
So swallowed down I am.
At night only the white gleaming marrow of bone,
a contrast to this darkened bed of death.
At rest, far from the waves a longing hum is deep within this skull.

It only takes one leak in a ship to sink it. But without that leak we wouldn't know how to repair the ship and understand there's improvements to be made. We need those leaks so that inside we remain intact, like a crew has to work together to keep the boat afloat. Evolve to progress further.

A freezing drop of water,
oozing from a distraught cloud,
(wanted to be a feather in the
cloud's dark watery wing
till it would in torrents rain
in as much distant a land possible
that thirsts,while  reeling under drought,)
forced out, slips in to the sultry air,
halfheartedly,
not even aware of
what it is really,
quickly becomes steam
in another minute,
now, fails to recognize itself,
subjected to an  identity crisis.
A story of self oblivious sacrifice,
that speaks of pain, unexpressed.