Wanting washes down my slanted soul
like water flow on bedrock, unseemingly
changing it's surface.

What is raw will be polished one day, what is polished
will give way in time, shedding it's delicate skin -
only to reveal more delicate skin.

Surface after surface washed away
from a core neither polished nor raw,
but unseen - unbroken.

Pure potential, -
washed away by thirsty flow.
Ever wanting. Never fulfilled.

Petrified Forest, Arizona