Rivers of melted music

Fuse into sculpture

Around this old oak tree

The moving air vibrates. 

Sound, shape, sightless shade

Spill into my sinner's heart,

That place apart that comes

And flutters on the wind

And is no more.

And so I settle into the coolness of thought

Follow the stream, just as you follow

Your heart. Run and you'll never

Stop running,

Mired in light or shade,

You'll run towards

Your grave..