(I feel like poetry, I'm tired to death of this blandness, oh my!)
/
Elegy

Do not seek him
In the cold mountain streams:
They are too frigid for any god;
And do not explore the raging rivers
In search of fragments of his soft body
Do not turn the stones on the beach in search of his blood;
But in the warm salty ocean
He descends through cliffs
Of slow green water
And the colorful fish that are suspended there
Kiss his snow-stricken body
And build their secret nests
In his floating shroud