Ye wanderer of despair
Keen on yer search
Of sand and glass,
Measuring stars on yer fingers
And years on a bark,
What have ye found
In yer mortality?
That flowers and songs
Could not soothe?
What have ye found
That babbling streams,
The wisdom of leaves
Did not prove true?

Ye wanderer of despair
Listen to the heart of things
Yer mind's a fool.