I am water. I don’t just sense it. I am it. I am not really what I seem. I am not still. I do not stop here. I come from there. I’ve always wanted to return there. I am lifted up, sometimes so high, spiritual they call me. Then I rain down to a place where the sewer runs, and they say, I stink, get out of here. But I am slowly rising again to the clouds, knowing that when I fall, I run until I fly.