Water's spirit, resurrected by the sun, He rises to the heavens to gather into clouds: white and grey ghosts of nothingness, they float, soar and sketch the horizon... Flooding the imagination with dragons and ships that don't exist.
He envelops disreputed places with mist, deepening the impenetrable darkness on cold mysterious nights... Suddenly reborn on an unsuspecting drowsy leaf, he trickles down slowly, running a shiver down her spine, making her toes curl.
Riding the Trade Winds, He gallops in as the Monsoons, stripping the earth nude of her cover filling green paddy fields to excess ripening mangoes until they burst of sickening extravagance.
Through veins he carves he flows restlessly and as his vigour is slowly spent in his own maze, he lies undead in the sea with tranquility, To be resurrected on sunnier days.