When you wake up, you are water. You flow silently, sweetly over stones, more river stones, and gather in quiet pools.
Later, during the day, undone, you swirl, pulled by forces unknown, or at least unseen, away from an order you understand. But your search for reassurances and solid ground, both orders you can understand, is futility's guru.
Finally, in the night, when you sleep, you are a wishing well, laden with silent, hopeful coins.