How deep is a puddle?
Underneath the sky
Atop the earth
And soaking into the dirt beside the rugged asphalt

Created beside the hand of man
How it reaches in
Just to stir itself into a frenzy

How it seeks to meddle and mend the crooked stream
From its own perspective  
When the preference is not to wind but to align

For this I say
Unto the man
Who holds the line
With his elbows locked and intertwined

That a winding way is not a way
Or a challenge from the immortal hand
It's just a steam of the natural
It's just the earth trying to begin again

Pulling the water back to the sea
To grind the eternal rock to sand

Ever so slowly

And this is why
Directly beside your creation
The puddles began