Tonight my head rests between worlds,
Plains of the open and closed eye.
Where still images dance in jubilee,
And time spins its desperate lies.
Rock and Water beseech my head,
Campaigning their inimical ways.
Each pleading, this night I swallow them,
But the size of I is one stoke of fate.
The river clear and graceful flows,
If elemental cleave is overt.
Still, earth must also truly guide,
Life's veins to prudently discern.
By misplaced stone and lax surge,
They rage about each other.
Tumult is born and physics matures,
Yet Time takes the chaos downriver.
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