When This Water Clears

I swim in this rugged terrain caused by failing pipes in a house once loved. I await a moment of stillness—a silence so deep, where the rush of the water finally dries up and the floor and my feet finally meet.

I search for the light in these currents, and I’m carried to sleep at midnight with the house's desires. I want to be submerged, baptised by grace, but now I am caught by this house and can’t break its embrace.

Between broken pipes and life’s terrain, when will my light and life cease to collide? When will my nature be to hear nature? I’m on a rhythm of a plan I can't expand upon.

Yet, I float and hope, though my path is unclear. I await the day when the waters in this house run clear. The pipes are bound now, so I can hear nature's glowing sound now.