Bring me into golden fields of wheat,
the vibrant waves of grass.
Speak of the sun upon my skin,
then wait for dusk, the moon, the stars,
Step and wade through the waters.
I'll ask:
Are you well rested?
Are you by any chance content?
Is there anything you need to amend?
Reeds and marshes, and rocks on the bed,
the silence they gather,
the silence they lend.
Subtly whispering of sun, where there's none,
Of growing towards the sky!
So eager, so driven, those reeds have become.
Another day, another night,
look, a fish has made a sound!
A droplet of water, a ring on the surface,
a singular ripple, a crack in the mirror.
And it made the reflection,
of everything above,
a curious dream of dawn.
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