A wise man once said, "Water always wins."
     He's right.
For a long time I didn't know what you were.
     What you still are.
I never really thought about it. But now I know.
     You're water.
I did so well in the beginning. You were only a drizzle.
I carried my umbrella those first few days. But I must
have lost it along the way.

I ignored the raindrops for awhile, but you were
a force of Nature.

It began to pour, and you covered me.
You seeped into my very core, infecting
me like the Waters of MARS.

You were patient and persistent. You penetrated
my foundation, ripped open cracks, rotted the wood.
     And what's a body or soul with decaying support?

Water waits. Water cuts through mountains, carving canyons.
     You cut through me to make this.

What am I now? An eroded frame of what I once was?

That piece of mountain that you washed away, where
did it end up? Is it with you now?
      Can I stand without it?

Have you left a deep crevice, a permanent scar?
Have you ruined me forever, or can I still be
     as beautiful as the Grand Canyon?