When I was water, so calm and pure,
you convinced me, I was cold and unworthy
that I could transform into something better
and warmer, so you poured me into your pot
of desires and boiled me, I cried and rumbled
in pain but you never came to my aid.
But instead of dying and drying up,
I evaporated, turned into steam and escaped
now that I've become the rainy cloud above
your dry landscapes, you come often too many
times, climbing mountains with hurting feet
just to pray for my sanctuary hand.
©
L