Where last beats fell and waters churned
A man looked down upon his face…
In reverie, his thoughts did turn:
To follow the river is to follow the arc
It does not drift, it does not wait
Find its course with limb and mind
There walks a man;
There runs his fate
To follow the river is to follow the thread
It does not lie, it does not leave
Drowning stones there as he does,
He comes to think;
He comes to breathe
Something of that ember lives!
He feels it bide, he feels it wake
Looking out, but at itself,
As if to speak;
As if to make “
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