We Are Liquid

We have the capacity to hold the liquid of our existence within this corporal container.

Not a solid unmoving rigid block, locked in an unyielding animation.

Nor an ever expanding mist, diffused, suspended, condensing to a fit of the vapours.

We are liquid.

Held in loving dermal layers; moving with our thought; reacting to our nature.

A deepening sea, contained by cliffs large and proud, interrupted by sand bars and dabbled with nets.

Whetting and running off the sharp passion of our secreted hinterland.

And when the moon pulls the surface too close and hydroscopic pressure is over whelming,

we have no option but to unchain the lacramentional soldiers.

Freeing them to  parachute onto the words below and infuse the language with our unspoken desire

to swaddle, to console, to be holding.