The Museum of Water

There must be many ways to connect to the Source.
If the ocean is the art of letting go,
why aren’t we all swimming?

Ocean — a museum of love,
where each wave is a painting,
and love flows in every frame.
We are collectors of this water,
each of us carrying a different kind of body within.

Some of us are afraid to expand our own museum.
Afraid to dent the frame, smudge the paint,
tear the canvas, or touch the artifact of our intuition.
We walk carefully, guarding what wants to flow.

We fear walking around with empty containers,
for aliveness demands surrender.
The more awake we become,
the more we resist the tides of change.

If the heart of the ocean is the soul,
then our souls are the nudists —
bare, unguarded, and thirsting for touch.

The more I swim,
the less afraid I am
to let the water reach me.

For the soul’s need —
unconditional love —
is the most natural experience.

The world can see what we carry in our hearts.
To survive here as a clear being,
we must be capable of drinking,
capable of swimming,
capable of change,
and capable of motion.

Bernice Zoleka Mannie 
LYAIOZ MANNIE
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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