Water pours from the faucet, into the pot.

It’s not ice yet, but it’s very cold.

It’s almost like the motion of flowing from one place to the next,

Is the only thing keeping it from becoming solid.

You learned in your science class that ice is a crystal.

It’s like a precious gem.

It’s frozen in a simple shape,

That is so beautiful,

That people who work all day long,

Spend the money they earn just to hold it in their hands.

Unlike precious gems, ice is impermanent.

Ice is just another kind of water, 

Sometimes water freezes solid, but water is always flowing,

Moving. 

It never stops changing from one thing to the next.

You set the pot on top of a flame.

The pot heats up, until it’s so hot, you don’t dare touch it, for fear of being burnt.

Then the water jumps up into the air,

And it’s caught by the wind.

You were never the kind of kid who jumps in puddles,

But you were always like the water.

You live in a world that’s made up of days,

Each moment is a gem, but each day is a river.

Today, you sail in a boat, that floats on a river,

And you let the wind carry you,

Until the day in your world fades to night, and you look up at the stars.

You think about how each of those stars is the source of a day.

Then, day is just a word.

When you come home, you make a paper boat.

Then, you’re a kid again, and you sail on puddles which become as big as an ocean,  

But you never stomp in them.  

You don’t see the end of the street as an obstacle.

Beyond the paved road is a muddy green field,

And between the grass and the asphalt,

You watch the rainwater collect in a puddle.

Slowly, it seeps into the ground, or clings to your shoes, or returns to the clouds.

The water has its own way of playing,

Just like you and your friends play in the field.