A River Or The Sea

By Neesha Rumi

I want to be a river. Or the sea. You can be the rock that I flow and splash against. Over time, I will take particles of you and make them a part of me. Maybe one day, one of your words will find themselves on the floor of myself - the sea - with a carbuncle growing on it, opening and closing its strange mouth. Maybe one day,

one of your thoughts with fall like a droplet onto my surface and cause a ripple that makes its way back to you. Maybe one day, after years I will carve out caves from your sheer cliff-face and make a corner of solitude. I can break against your sandy body and sweep back into myself always leaving drops of me behind and taking grains of you into my depth. Sometimes, I can just gently nuzzle your rocky shoulders with the side of my face – my hair streaming down your arms and your chest – and breathe gentle undulating breaths that wet you just a little bit every time. I want rush over your perfect pebble voice, laughing. I, simply, want to curl up in a pond and just reflect. Sometimes I want to unearth your little uncut rubies and marvel at your creation. Sometimes I just want to waterfall into you and make a whirlpool. Wouldn't that be fun? Because sometimes I just want to trickle deep down into your hot core and then transform into steam. Can we mould and vapourize each other? Because on the other side of volatile me is the beautiful rain. The other side of eroded you is a delta.

By Neesha Rumi