You are like Water on Earth moving continuously through the water cycle of evaporation and transpiration (evapotranspiration), condensation, precipitation, and then run off, usually reaching the sea to my heart. Evaporation from one and transpiration to another contribute to the precipitation over land(my life). Like Water you are used in the production of a good or service is known as the virtual you.

Safely drinking you is essential to me and other lifeforms even though it provides no calories or organic nutrients. Access to safe drinking you has improved over the last years in almost every part of my world, even though approximately one billion people still lack access to you and over 2.5 billion have access to adequate sanitation.

A rose of glassblowing transparency...
air-born as the color eyes see
when closed to the sun.
Petals pressed open shatter in place...
as red silk intermingled.
The color of passion and alarm,
that an earth transpires--rose...
occasioned by that transpiration.
Put to amnesiac white wings--
aftershocks of contrast...as blood to
snow, and all its angels.

running through the countryside
rivers in full flow
rolling over rocks
rushing down the valley low
reaching the flat delta
ranging and tracing in tributaries
re-birthing as transpiration in the blue seas

Dear one,
As the domino, I fall cascading on the drawing board. Why would one deny progression? A furtherance , the ebb and flow. I remain up beat and spirited as I read your letters. It's like a barred barricade is being lifted.Your glowing light is charging me. Certainty is liberating, the riding of the waves have become a skill that I have engrossed. The tides spread from shore to shore and I must anchor. I am ever grateful for your deliberation in regard to my current affairs. Your magnanimity is greatly appreciated.

                                           As I am
Enormous, bountifulness of free spirit. Episodes of  taciturnity alternated by sequences of  thrill are remarkably felt. The higher level linking is simultaneous , coordinated and equidistant. As life propels, years progress a resemblance of energy is greatly congruent. The conforming compatibility of the absolute is evident. Transpiration of what once known yet unknown surfaces, erupts and consolidates a new meaning. A renewed existence, a recovered emergence solidifies. These moments are so evident, abundantly and vehemently felt on every fibre,bone and muscle of my being. Right to the core of my soul, my very existence.

On the tangent of thoughts........"J" the jewel... the forgotten treasure. What happened to the nature trueness that stroked your mind? The non win compromises aren't spontaneous. We must realign.... we must.

Vous êtes magnifiquement merveilleux et excellent en tous les moyens possible.
You sure do give me the butterflies......
You hold me in skies high above.
I can't control the butterflies.........
Is it just a flutter ?

To progress as you progress.....
SassyJ

Inspired by........
Natasha Bedingfield (Soulmate)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P27MPi3ZhCg

the cigarette smoke hang in the air like
tropical transpiration.
dancing, dipping, she hung on to him tight.
flight topical sensations
starts rapid elation
to sacred vibrations.

Lovers in a lover's dance.
One in each others trance.
They form a flower of shape and motion,
and raise their smiles
like the sun
in an eastern ocean.

When, like a sudden shadow
with such outdone bravado,
a man sprung from underfoot,
from under carpet and soot,
and began to introduce himself,
his hand a continental shelf,
waiting for a shake from the lover's ocean.

Without attention, his hand slunk back to
it's bright blue breast pocket cave.
"Henry Ennui, man o' soot " he said was his name.
The lover's proclaimed "You're insane."

The words tickled Henry, like water the drain
then he let the lovers look
inside his brain
where the rain was
and the flame does
what it wants underwater

UNDERWATER:
the lovers gasped,
the ash man rasped,
pulled a pistol from his patched pants,
and proceeded to shoot them both.

That single leaf

looks as if it has some grey in it's green

because the clouds in the sky are obscuring the sun

overcast days polish the sun white

and the dusty leaf hangs

looking like it will last

it would be cool to the touch

and bitter on the tongue

it's transpiration

those sweaty lungs

there are a thousand

a few bunches orange

a few brown still hanging from the branches

there are four thousand fallen

crunchy like baked chips

breathing no more

leaves number 997, 998, 999

hang from branch number 8

during the 4th hour of a day in the second millennium of man

a dark night spins dreams simultaneously

and a single dream leaf contains a record of eternity past

like an old friend who suddenly knows magic

and reads shakespeare

leaf 998 is a streak of ink

on the pages of life

like a glorious ray of sunshine

peeking it's head

into the future, heaven

like slipping between the curtains of the present

breathing for tree 700,237,112

When he is sad,
My tears are just watery entities,
And my lips are chapped laments
That wish to kiss him on his porcelain cheek  
And send him to an unspoken bliss.

When he is sad,
My whole world
Is an electric madness
That I dare not live,
But grieve over.

I hope to never see him cry
But when a somber tear be shed,
I will immerse myself
In a pain that goes on forevermore;
I will hug him with a fond embrace.

His sadness is a grief
That cannot be spoken by a sensitive heart like I,
For I would sunder in yonder
April skies.


I am in love with him
And it's so strange...
Such an intricate force
That has never been.
It's like my heart and mind's
Devotion, humanity, and passion
Depends upon him.

When he laughs,
When he is a jovial friend and brother of mine,
We are beautiful.
We laugh and, at last,
Have sought the sublime, refreshing youth
That brings us closer.

When he smiles at me,
A fascinating transpiration is then reborn,
And it is stunning.
It's like we will never die.


Nevermore, my days of beauty,
Laughter, and fascination will soon be,
For he is leaving my heart that beats a serenade
In time with his beautiful face's cry.

He is leaving for Annandale,
And he leaves me with a tear upon my face.
He will leave, taking with him
The sublimity I never can gaze upon so fondly again
After the grey of June that I so devotedly
Fear.

Did you know that into the last glass of water that you sipped?

A dinosaur one day, may have bent down and dipped

A scaly tongue to quench his thirst

Or even lumbered in feet first


As he and his primeval pal recreated

In the prehistoric stream of this life-giving liquid

Which revives the lives today of all women and of men

For it’s the very same water now, as it was way back then.
  

How can it be that you and me,

Drink the same water again, that they did back then?

Well it’s no fluke or chance of creation

Take a look at this cycle for a simple explanation


The sun warms the ocean and this causes evaporation

Vapours condense into clouds, this causes precipitation

That’s rain to you and me as it falls down from the sky,

But precipitation is not the only reason why


Our streams fill and sometimes overflow,

Becoming rivers as they grow,

Liquid life in poetry of motions

Rivers turn to seas, ebb and flow into the oceans.

  
For the sun doesn’t just affect the seas and the ocean,

It heats the leaves of our trees and this causes transpiration

Because vapour also rises from the trees,

Clouds form and may even freeze,


In these clouds tiny droplets bounce around,

Fun for them but not for us on the ground

For when they hit each other, they stick together

And this has repercussions for our weather



What goes up must come down

And soon rain or hail will fall on every town

With storm and sleet on every street and gutters overflowing.

Rains lash, puddles splash and before long it’s snowing.


The levels rise in all our lakes,

But then thank God, the cloud breaks

The sun warms the ocean this causes evaporation

And he begins his work again to feed a thirsty nation.

  
We survey the Earth, water end to end

But it’s the same ole water, recycled again and again

Water, water is everywhere but less than 2% is drinkable,

Preserve, conserve and do take care, because pollution really is unthinkable.

Where to begin to save our water, is plain to see, it all begins with you and me.

Never forget being a human..
Most times in the quest and dedication of things brought about by imagination we forget the art of being human, it will be too great a catastrophe to loose humanity completely...
Stagnation is the primal curse..
Stagnation can be confused.
Not moving is stagnation, which is bad..
But..
Moving in one direction,
disregarding other aspect is stagnation.
Excessive obsession is worst.
Not looking back is terrible..
Not looking forward is detrimental..
Not in the present is dilutions..
In this Sense focus is misappropriated...
Everything is dilutional except the art of being human..
Humanity... Is
Consideration..
Accommodation..
Moderation..
Adaptation.
Repro­duction..
Transpiration.
Respiration.
Transformation..
Aspiration­..
Imagination.
So on the list travels into the desert of words unsaid...
Disregarding any of these is inhumane..
Excessive obsession on any of these is inhumane..
Countless bygone civilization of ages dissipates into the abyss of inhumane and never returned..

The wind is offering riddles this warm October morning ,  are we not like plants , distant cousins nourished from sun above , soil below , rays of light , tied down to a minuscule piece of ground , awaiting our ultimate fate , transpiration . Returned to the clouds ? Renewed . Establishing roots in the place we call home , bathed in sunlight and hopeful for tomorrow ..

long clouds the puffy ones
the jet vapors the transient work into the
atmosphere and disappear
the dark ones the threatening
the clown like  
cartoon things
work the wills
and the imagining
long suffered hopes
of all of us
quite the vaporous
puffy memory of dreams
and hopes
vapid
with liquid moist
molecular transpiration and lust
just soft water dispersed into air
like hopes and love
floating above the
atmosphere where
we long desire to be a
tiny thing interspersed
with all
and free

cartoon confessional
*******, comical profession
my honesty is not your priority
my honesty is not worldly morality
you won't read this and feel anything.
you won't know me and change your life.
you'll hallucinate belonging,
you'll produce surreal existence of coded transponding

******* for real.

im drunk af and don't give af
continue to spoon yourself the morning grain
and laugh a mouthful of motherly milk
spill abreast your leather cushion
spill abreast your taste for plastic ****.
i could confess my most intimate secrets
and you'd declare fake news abound.
so *******, *******.

i'll spill my guts
sober as a bird
or
drunk as dirt is *****.
ill create cartoons cohesive to my creation
and **** the karma of cautionary tales
and scream ******* till i die.
because regardless of what i say
or how honestly i say it,
you will continue to **** yourself
and enjoy ******* those around you.

this is not a joke.
*******.
language is so much more than words.
don't read me with hopes for inspiration
don't read me for a glance of transpiration.
words are merely symbols of existence and understanding.
read what is written and you will understand
that we've been ****** since the first translation.

i can't translate my emotions into words.
i can try. but you will never know.
i can tell you why
but you will never grow.

love is lost and life is futile
but we'll argue over value
and we'll exit with arguments in our blood.
we are ****** and god is gone
gone with a capital G.
god is just the next best thing since apple sauce
and wonder bread in the morning.

The happening

On the balcony sat a raven it had yellow eyes
It crewed with delight.

Ill in bed the flue, a stream of transpiration
turned into a raging river.

Transported me to the sea which was cooling
and calm lowered the fever.

The raven had fallen to its death into the canyon
of high rise flats.

A man picked it up his dinner of the day saved
he wore a feather on his hat.