Heal the being with that precious name
so that the nameless god-one can dance here,
can rumpus in this body,
cause a ruckus with this life
in unexpected tastes and colours.
Let the story of the body-holder shift,
draining away like unnecessary nectar
or draughts of wine past its prime;
flow, story, move downstream to make peace
with your own currents,
drip into the land that you feed
on your way to the ocean.
The ocean has need of this body,
present in this place.
The body moves to catch the ocean
as it falls over the desert
in cooling drops of sustenance.
Drink, body, drink to quench your sky-thirst,
knowing that the water
is your own,
knowing that the story will flow again
and the empty body wake to feel the dew.