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Do not pity water
its ancient edgelessness.
From a holy highway of birds,
rain thinks of you as a souvenir.

I have long wanted to write about the water cycle, about how water takes the shape of its container, and about how drops of water form, coalesce and separate. However, all my efforts got to be too technical and scientific. Limiting the poem to so few lines solved that problem, while creating new ones.