I hold a glass of water
while you watch the liquid treasure;
rare like a benitoite,
precious and difficult
         to hold.
That's what I do
with my breath,
carried away in this world,
         so fast,
         too disappointing,
         barely human.

I'm in search of fresh,
soothing truth.

Everything may not be simple,
yet some needs are limpid -
         imperious
to you and me -
just like a handful of water
that quenches our thirst.
It comes from a spring
and flows into a river,
reflecting light
and images of a whole life.

If you lean,
you'll see the bottom:
pieces of gold shine under the sun
and a carnation is carried by the current.
There's also a letter from a distant past,
a medal of glory that did not last,
the pill-box that fell from your pocket
and the cigarette you threw when you gave up smoking.

In the water, you can sense your future,
it touches your toes
and invites you to dive
for an essential effort
that will teach you how to swim.

You are careful,
but soon you may find out
how safe it feels to move on
and how far you can really go.

On a hot afternoon,
the water will evaporate
from the shale ground,
while later,
the flow will reach the whole bed.

Lie on it, surrounded
by the stuff that dreams are made of.
I am made of water
and I want to be your dream.