water

When you think about it, water is almost an exact comparison to life. Water can be salt, like the kind of tears that can change a person.
It can be fresh, like the crisp breath of satisfaction.
People yearn for that freshness. They thrive off the freshness. Our bodies are built to crave that very freshness. Our very need for that purity shows how we are all just a creation after all. And how water really is what controls us. Water gives life. It runs through the earth, frantically into the eager little stems. They drink it up, they live on it. Because that is what water does. Life flourishes on water.
Water is so unpredictable. It is flexible yet so delicate. It breaks against that simple stone in that simple brook, yet is strong enough to flood a thousand gates.
Water is such a riveting life in itself. Riveting like the darting minnows through its shallows. Calm like the misty silence in the morning.
When water is melancholic, it cries. The rain pours down in such a despairing mood that its aura drags others down with it. It can be pounding down in desperation, the way that only a feverish broken heart would know. Or it could be crying in reassuring little drops that gently roll down.
When it chooses too, water can be angry. Oh, water can become a rage that has never been seen before. It can rock the mightiest of ships, drown the bravest of cities. Water storms, water screams, water kills.
Maybe we should learn to appreciate water more; or perhaps fear it a little more.