I Was Thanking Him For...well, For Something

Now I Know That Our World Is No More Permanent Than A Wave Rising On The Ocean. Whatever Our Struggles And Triumphs, However We May Suffer Them, All Too Soon They Bleed Into A Wash, Just Like Watery Ink On Paper.

My Mother Once Told Me I Was Like Water. Water Can Carve Its Way Even Through Stone. And When Trapped, Water Makes A New Path.

Finally The Homeless Eel Marked Its Territory, I Suppose, And The Doctor Lay Heavily Upon Me, Moist With Sweat.

Well, A Peach Has A Lovely Taste And So Does A Mushroom, But You Can't Put The Two Together.

Those Of Us With Water In Our Personalities Don't Pick Where We'll Flow To. All We Can Do Is Flow Where The Landscape Of Our Lives Carries Us