“So lay me down in the flowing cold,
Sweeping away, I am but a soul.
All that’s left, the beauty around me
It’s its own beholder; it surrounds me.”
So what is given her but fear and lonely dread?
All hope abandoned here, once immersed, one is dead.
But to rise above the waves, one can dream,
And she surely does.
Though little more than that it seems,
Her safety she dearly loves,
Enough to stay on is this mainland,
But will she live with her head in the sand?
What she’s left with is what the water gave her.
Which is little more than enough to enslave her.
Floating by, amongst, beauty that draws in,
She rests her mind as she dreams within.
An elaborate take on my fear of water, and partially inspired by the Florence and the Machine song: “What the Water Gave Me”