These windswept peaks bear no resemblance to my name.
How then am I to know who is being called home?

I look to skies of grey with wondering eyes.
I am too drunk on earths coursing rivers to sense the stars above.

A sober touch moves the pebble from here to there.
The motion of my will elevates the pebble to divinity.

Here and there and nowhere are in me and in mine.
One place is all place is home.

Forget your longing and enter my inn.
In my hospitality the wine is conversation.

Loosen your grasp on the cup and speak with me awhile.
Then, forget about awhile and remember eternity.