A nitid soul she was,
Now a backwash of a ferocious tide in a rather dwindling pool.
Still she held on to the imminent hope of the rains.
the petrichor she could smell, of the moistened soil from afar,
And as the wind kept blowing over her puddle of wet hope,
She knew soon she would cascade down the rifts and gulleys to her heavenly abode, the sea.
It was her dream.
Slowly it began to rise slowly,
Ripples filled her watery facade,
And the wetness well, she was accustomed to it,. it was what she was.
And just like the children,
In their immeasurable joy and unmatched laughter had they waded through her murky morphology,
She too now waded through the bone dry earth,
Which was now painfully metamorphosing into a rather grizzly ooze,
Sipping of her every ounce of water that that was her,
However in her laments she too left the dust rising from her wake in shrill cries before fully dissipating into the now fully expectant atmosphere all around,.
Freedom is all she left engraved on the earth with her watery ink; that dripped and swirled within; her; ink that was her,
And which she willingly sacrificed to make a way for herself,
Making her own self her prey that she could still ignite within her a fire of hope from her glistening drops of her soul.
And as she made swirls as she met with her idol,
Her god the sea,
Then did she know that then ultimately the sea would reign supreme over her,.
Now she no longer was,
She just faded in the vastness of the sea she had so much praised to find freedom in,
The turmoil of the vastness of the sea slowly quietened her trickling,
The uproars of the sea and her distorted ebb were not to be compared,
She had imagined it would be, but now it wasn’t,
FOR THEN SHE CEASED TO EXIST.