Way of Water

On days of ease, I blossom into the day with grace, filled with a sweetness my mind can never fully grasp. Airy and confident like an imperceptible insect, pushed about by the wind and still reaching its destination. Spaces within spaces emanate from a hidden layer, a cause, a seed. Unfolding as a peacock's tail, the world before my eyes peels itself almost nude but dresses the moment I notice. Should I pour my admiration from the peripheral of my attention...the peripheral of my heart? On days of wading and struggle, I yearn for the moments of past glory, feeling as if punished by my lover for unknown reasons. How did I offend the only one deserving of this obsession? Wrestling within and without, without and within, I forget about every insight, every epiphany. Can quicksand be apart of my nature, the poisoning of myself in fear, in longing? I spiral in separation for as long as I persist, but on days of ease I blossom into the day with grace, filled with a sweetness my mind can never fully grasp.