We are the result of an unknowable amount of cell division that have taken place in water. The rain speaks the soundless processes of replication. Pitter patter.
The language of water is the language of dreams, maybe this is the reason why we cannot be clearly anywhere when talking of water, and of course, it's all incomplete, like recalling a dream. Has anyone ever recounted a dream in its entirety, has there ever been a dream told in language that wasn't missing something? No, I think not. So, the flows of water pass us and we just speak a few burbbles, the only ones we can, as it passes, like drops that remain on a hand after removing it from a stream, just those drops have names, we cannot speak the stream.
If a sentence is a piece of the world, a meeting place in the alphabet of you and I, and water is the essence of everything, even the thin film of your eyes that silently reflects the world in front of you, which wave is the ocean?