Piercing though the crystal clear,
Waters edge, so bright and sheer.
Wayward glances, to bright to look.
What’s written in the book
Past present, what have you.
Burning, short, then born anew.
So I again start to peer,
In the book, or ocean, both are clear.
The bright, wondrous things, I see
Are in every sense of the word, good enough for me.