In due course, memories settle down;
Better still, snooze.
Living cannot clutch a great deal of life for long,
Yet now I hold it dancing in my hands. Although everything is now, now is not;
Every moment dances in a ocean of light.
People were and will be, never are;
The present is a glass through which we ponder.
Ubiquitously are ghosts that dance in dreams
Smoothed by the twist of time.

Several people are a ship, and some a fireside;
Some are breeze, and some are Dry season sun;
Some many, while some are only one;
Some ask for the complete while others ask for the part.
Although those who travel also stay at home,
Those at home are also much abroad,
For all of life must be an untied road
That escorts us to the place from whence we wander.
There is no disparity that what we do or are
That makes a distinction to the bare soul
That positions before the mirror of the whole
While sailing, sailing vividly further than the impediment.