Springing
from sequestered
splendour,
carved
out by
ancient tributaries;
Receiving,
streaming,
flowing
with
the current
of experience;
Through
the floodplains
of my sorrows,
to the
foreshore of
my dream time;
A river
of breath,
a watershed
of meaning,
consciousness
in spate.
“Here is born the Po,
Anon, its waters flow;
So too I will upend,
From spring to shore
And back again.”
- AH
