My love it runs deep, carving paths through tiny crevices,
under the surface, within.
It cascades over jagged edges, smoothly, undeterred, undevided.
My love it runs swiftly, not holding back, resolute and ever-knowing
where the basin-home lies, wide-open.
Shall it be cut off from the main-stream course, an unexpected turn-
it keeps gliding, slowly, gently onward.
And shall it lose momentum, caught in a depression, turn
murky, foul, lifeless - patience - over seasons or ages
it shall rise and become clear, weightless.
My love is never old - change is her shadow - loss, a mirage
on the long journey through the frenzied jungle, home.
Formless is her nature, unbecoming and rebirth - her breath -
every moment, anew.