Your promises, like waterfalls,
beauty that belies their power.
Draperies that conceal windows,
where I might see things that may be.

Indeed, I find I am swept down,
tumbling around in turbulence.
Disoriented and washed up,
I cannot seem to catch my breath.

So I decide then, to hold it,
but have passed my limitations.
Constrained by the surface tension,
my lungs demand of me their fill.

I drink the river into me,
as I am carried to the sea.
My eyes no longer bright with life,
my lips twitch as if they are gills.

Those promises, like waterfalls,
that have washed me over the edge.
Where I was crushed by the deluge,
and transported beyond myself.

M. Zane McClellan

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