
Language of water
Author: Liam Welch
Published on: 2/8/2017 4:13:57 PM

What is it that water does do?

Water does do what is must in an approximation of balance. Intuitively its turns are falls up stream faster than I can catch, my footprints trace an edge of land searching for the river of first sight before it slides out of sight into the next face of its identity. 

Con Song (I [am not sure if I] know which marks are missing on the river word, but I sat and thought about the animating forces of nature signified in its con)

We are the result of an unknowable amount of cell division that have taken place in water. The rain speaks the soundless processes of replication. Pitter patter. 

The language of water is the language of dreams, maybe this is the reason why we cannot be clearly anywhere when talking of water, and of course, it's all incomplete, like recalling a dream. Has anyone ever recounted a dream in its entirety, has there ever been a dream told in language that wasn't missing something? No, I think not. So, the flows of water pass us and we just speak a few burbbles, the only ones we can, as it passes, like drops that remain on a hand after removing it from a stream, just those drops have names, we cannot speak the stream. 

If a sentence is a piece of the world, a meeting place in the alphabet of you and I, and water is the essence of everything, even the thin film of your eyes that silently reflects the world in front of you, which wave is the ocean?


I don't know why I get so caught on the infinity of everything all of the time, it is that perpetual snag and fall in which I drift suspended through waking hours


To speak cup, to speak what it means for me in this moment to fill it
It rains
So they drink
To speak words pitter patter


There is always a sense of moving together
Of pointing to hands, of holding the face
A journey that is only a part