The Self Says, I Am; The Heart

To Follow The Drops Sliding From A Lifting Oar, Head Up, While The Rower Breathes, And The Small Boat Drifts Quietly Shoreward.

I Learned Not To Fear Infinity, The Far Field, The Windy Cliffs Of Forever, The Dying Of Time In The White Light Of Tomorrow, The Wheel Turning Away From Itself, The Sprawl Of The Wave, The On-coming Water.

I Bleed My Bones, Their Marrow To Bestowupon That God Who Knows What I Would Know.

Teach As An Old Fishing Guide Takes Out A Beginner.

And Soon A Branch, Part Of A Hidden Scene,the Leafy Mind, That Long Was Tightly Furled,will Turn Its Private Substance Into Green,and Young Shoots Spread Upon Our Inner World.