Sit.

Don't you want to take a sip
From the water's womb, the river's stream
And in this endless looking for
I am lost, I am found and then

I hear a call
A tone that echoes evermore
I feel a pluck
A strain, a pull, a yank and then I fall

I whoop of pain
I scream and then I faint
Collapsing in your margin
Reaching to your rim
I feel a pluck
The trite, the diurnal
I wait for you to call in this abyss