I found you in the lap of the river
Flowing freely, lacking form.

I tried to hold you in my palm,
but my fingers were not watertight,
and all they gathered was the debris of my thoughts.

So I waited for you to turn around,
and return against the flow
while the river, fed by the valley, widened her girth,
and the mountains dissolved into bread crumbs.

I grew weary,
and even the sun seemed to leave behind a shadow.

Sometimes the twilight would mould a fleeting statue of you.

Sometimes I would see your footprints
sprinkled in the woods,
and follow them until they disappeared
into the burrows of rabbits.

I realized you had embraced obscurity.
And then while on the brink of despair,
I found a grain of you left behind on the river bank.

I planted the grain
and nurtured it.

The harvest tasted like sour wine.



Laugh with me
until waterfalls lose their breath.

Sing with me
until the wind stops doing somersaults.

Dance with me
until dewdrops stop caressing leaves.

Walk with me
until the mountains lose their taste buds.

Run with me
until the rainbow loses colour.