In all backwards and forways,

for upways and downwords

still stick in my mind

that some hearts are not fine

and maybe if I said it thus simple

I would gather all stars to my ribs

but I see it not simple.

If I am, in all consequence,

I must see all together or see not at all.

For harps are not one string,

nor babies one bone

but by influx of rivers

thus comes the sea.

and asking: what sort of waters make up we.