I stand,

my hands cup my face,

lifted upwards to embrace the flood of water.

Head tilted back,

eyes closed:

only the incessant drum of droplets,

the clouds of steam that engulfs the soul,

the smells of soil after it rains,

and coconut shampoo.

The heat that streams down my arms,

past my back, and pools at my feet.

The massage of pounding water,

that beats at my temple, and tickles my nose.

I open my lips and take in

the blood of the planet.

It fills my mouth and overflows,

like sweet honey on apple cake,

running down my sides,

seeping into my very being,

and once again

becoming part of me.

Its rightful place.

I lift my arms up.

Stretch towards the source of the euphoria:

To thank the gods, present and past,

for the warmth I am made of.

To reach for something more

then the overabundance I already have.

To express the joy of receiving

what will be shortly taken by away,

but will leave an ever lasting presence.

In this way I stand,

elated with my unity to the water

and the sweet warmth it provides.

Waiting for the shower to never end.