The water rushes down the river and floods the fields, then sinks into the ground.
It comes down from the sky and then sinks into the ground.
It comes up in buckets and in the pulp of fruit and is consumed; it comes down in sweat, tears, shit, and all the rest. It is impossible to understand, but impossible not to try to understand.
Water is not itself a symbol, but can admit symbols in colloidal suspension. As in all things, the majesty of heaven manifests itself in the smallest of details—as well as the largest. It is seductively epicurean—and foolish—to worship the details.