MIND'S FLOW

Like heated H₂O am I,
                  my molecules colliding.
                                    Hotter, bits of me break off
                                            are lost until the rains come.
                                    Everglades:  the word
                  both wishful and poetic.
The mot juste or metaphor
          for sanity and essence.
                   At one end I am solely concerned
                            with new, as much as can be got,
                                            at times ignoring what I am,
                                     or soon what once I was.
                   In the nether regions drained,
diluted, and not too deep.