This poem is a meditation on life being a fluid situation…
The Shape of Water
It was a fluid situation
Matched soully bye
That mettle
Ground
Staring at his naval
He was blind at see
Taking on water
Flailing a bout
Every scene without
An act
Making nothing of awe
Down for no account
Soully to find
Know madder what
He was
Out of shape
And fore what?
That moment of surrender
The wrest at sea
Aft loosen it
Only then
Real eyes
That third act
Caring us with the wins
The shape of water
And common ground
Oh what would give
To take
It with you
Getting wind of won self
And holy grounded
