Blessed are the mystic waters
Bagged up by glaciers in caverns
That spill over. Crystallization of
Those immortal years show exactly
How we’ve felt about our wet berths
Through time, frozen solid. Yet, there is
Potential for mutable and fluid release.
The liquid of dreams shared can cure the
World of illusions. It isn’t always the way
We expect healing to go. Clarity in a stone
Reflection of ice can be a load to
Handle, melting a drop at a time those  
Judgmental expectations until warmth returns,
and softness floods into a beating heart.

copyright © 2013 Amanda Morris Johnson