The Course of Waters

I looked abroad and, lo, I saw, 
By books some and borrowed thought, 
The sight of a river, strong and flowing 
Ever to the Ocean. Above my eyes 
Rose by sun’s heat, rarified from far, 
The mists of myth, till mountains of logic 
Cooled the vapors, casting these down 
Crags and cliffs—clouds of darkness 
Falling far to fell their burden. 
From high heavens, heaped by rains 
Near without end, knowledge coursing 
With streams of words washed into that 
Low wide river, listing with current 
Of thinking and thirsting, of thought and tale, 
Seeking the source, a Sea of Mind. 
And I am myself an eddy itself— 
Not a mere craft nocking these waters, 
But bursting the banks with flood. 
So hear and heed, hearer and doer— 
Many streams met and made this river.

Featured image: ‘River Landscape,’ by Joachim Frich (1838), image sourced from www.nasjonalmuseet.no//en/collection/object/NG.M.04350, under license creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.en

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