Three States

 

Steam or vapour 

Is and is not.

You catch it for an illusion,

And it's gone. So you question 

Yourself, did I imagine it?

No, I didn't. It was here a minute ago.

Maybe it's because I tried to define that

What isn't tangible, what isn't expressed,

What isn't documented or measured,

What is shapeshifting and unstable

Like an undecided, chaotic compound.

But it isn't vague, you see.

It's science. It's the temperature,

It's the heat that makes it disappear,

Naked and invisible to the appearance.

Turn down the heat, it will be back around.

Freeze up your motivations,

And watch it become a stinging hurtful mess,

Proud and unshakeable, cold words

That get caught in its cowardly throat.

I prefer the one I can touch,

The red thread that never breaks,

Only stretches and pulls.

Soft, flowy and delightful salt drops.

Trickling from my hair to my neck.

Escaping from my sorry eyes,

Completing a long journey to my broken mouth.