Waterfall

If I could die and become something wonderful. 

It would be a waterfall at its source. 

Cold and wet, 

flowing from deep within the mountains, 

cascading down the rocks, 

sliding past the trees, 

reflecting back the utter blue of the sky. 

Laughing 

In the dancing over rocks and boulders, 

playing in the eddy pools 

and running cool fingers over moss, to fall, 

fall, 

fall, 

feet, down 

to hit the ground again. 

The most glorious of reunions.