A Lake.

What is a lake?
A mass of bodies,
Hydrogen bundles
Breathing themselves into
A hurdling horde?
What is this coruscating pool?
This wraithe’d body,
Perched upon the edge of sentience,
Partially fooling our senses,
Liminally coming forth
Touching our hands
But leaving nothing further
Breaking the light in our eyes
But holding nothing closely.
What is this water?
What lives us thusly?
This wetness in itself?