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