Flood

Nature, being nature, washes away the human world. Humans, being human, respond. All the waters comes out of me. All the waters go into me. There is no nature. Storm of my name’s bone. Washing it away. Even the traces of the washing. It’s not even gone. Before there was nothing then there were waters. Nature, being nature, washes the human world. Away. Brushing us like hairs lost to the artifact. The moon. The waters. Being nature there is no nature. Even the traces. Away.