The Genius of Water

I have no words you could understand
A senseless speech, clothed in a groan
A brass atmosphere; a flowing land
I am the music you sing not alone
A transparent mind, empty and free
See all, but there is nothing in me
To be seen, and the ceaseless drone
Goes on, goes on, the voice of the sea;

But all who hear me hear something --
Perhaps it is a prophecy for them
I who cannot speak but must sing
Rolling as the tide once again, once again
Of a perfect order I surely dream
Of fields of purple, of cities that gleam
I am then the river, deep and hidden
That carries life to all that teem;

I am slow dropping; dropping slow I am
A reminder, a torment, a slow advance
In winter, in spring, drop by drop slam
And carve order, I leave naught to chance;
But then too great for myself am I,
Layer on layer deeper than the seeing eye
With wind I, soft, have a deadly dance
Shake earth, and I am taller than the sky;

What words am I saying? You think you hear
The strange channels of my passing make
It seem as though signs and meanings appear
But I must, fleeting, that knowledge take;
Here we stand in bewilderment, O man--
A pile of phrases in a soda-can
Their ordering changes with a shake
Brief message gone in the wave of a hand;

I am the tear of burnt-out rage
I am sad; but not sick from my sadness
I see in myself them all on stage
Clear as glass the love, the madness;
"Genius of the water, we seek a way--"
"Tell us what will be after today."
But I see that too, my secret gladness;
Thus, there is nothing left to say.

- Ephrem Antony Gray

Be sure to visit Ephrem's site Symposium of Fire

Editors Note: This is the fourth in a series on Genius by Ephrem. You can find others, here, here and here.