The waters stagnate
From clear to green to black

Ink like and thick
I stare into them

They foam and froth
But it amounts to nothing

A purity emanates
From the black liquid

It is pristine now
No debris floats its surface

No solids or oils
Cloud its perfection

I crouch to get a closer look
I’m excited to observe it

I am eager but calm
I am relaxed and empty

I am a receptacle
For this pure water

Dark and sweet
But only for now

For a times, time
And half a time

I will wait here
By the stagnant water

The water that is called pure
And I will dream

I will dream and I will speak
To one that I have known

And in my dreams awake
No longer a vessel

But whole