Hot shower

It is the first hot shower I took in 4 weeks. The warm water is releasing my muscles, softening me, entering my body and melting me inside.
The drops hit the white marble floor, creating little puddles, waiting for them to grow so they can join the stream heading underground. Flowing to reunite with more of the same.
The water flows with no resistance. When hitting hair it goes around it, following the routes that are open. When enough water is there, it flows over the hair, not with aggression, but more with acceptance, just flowing in the direction that is naturally available for it.
Some drops fall into the empty clear bucket standing near my feet, making little sounds like that of a sewer overflowing with rain,
I did not miss the hot shower. It is hot in India, and the cold water stimulated the body, awakened it for new activity, new life.
But when it appeared, showering its warmth, like a mother, like a girlfriends kisses, it took me away, away from my thoughts into a land of constant flow, of streams uniting, connecting to a greater vessel, where the individual drops could not be separated any more.

Standing naked, I let the drops fall from my body. The knob turned to the right, keeps more water from running. I shake my body and use a clean towel to dry.
The sun is setting, and I am ready for a new day.