Coming and going
Like the tides in their haste
Like the spring winds, blowing
From place to new place;
Onwards and upwards
From crevasse to hill-top
With the clouds flowing over
And your hands reaching up;
Further and farther
Go these notes from new looms
Rising like high hopes
Sown from fresh blooms;
Passing through pastures
Across vines and green marsh
A pause for some bearings
And a choice of the path;
A mind for one spoken
One view for the next-
A search for some token
To bequeath against jest
There may well be nothing
But nothing else counts
We shall carry on living
See the days in and out;
We shall carry on being
Against all the odds,
Dreamers and weavers and
Children of Gods.