If the words keep on dripping, the drops from a tap;
A problem, no plumber can seem to fix.
And drops gather close, become oceans of water.
And swimmers keep treading, doing laps through drops of water.
Drips and drops, no solutions and no answers.
Problems with solutions; problems never existed — solutions solve nothing.
But to mix up a cocktail or solve some chemical equation.
There are no answers, if you’re terrible at math.
Or drink, until the solution is being drunk.
Keep drilling away, chiseling, at the stone edifice.
You know you’ll carve something,
Or perhaps, the water does the carving?
Deposits sediment and cuts through rocky banks.
Making rivers deep and wide,
Building-up, forming, layers of silt and rock,
Until a Canyon has formed; red-sand glow, Arizona sky,
Grey rock interspersing, with shimmering crystal white;
Glimmering blue-santorini water flows through.
Perhaps, sometime a millennia ago.
Waters made of drops of water.
Drip dripping from the sky through humanities history,
The weather of a million dark and stormy nights.
Oceans of droplets, oceans eroding rock in rivers with deltas and gorges; black and deep.
Deep deep the secrets these gorges do keep,
The water disappearing, chasing the blackness it seeks,
Drip dripping droplets and they fall down the window.
Where little children trace the drops with their tiny fingers.
And breathing in steamed windows,
See the O’s made by their precious little mouths.
©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.