18 December 2012
To rest beside this brook, I find Will soothe and calm my swirling mind. The water chuckling as it falls And splashing light off granite walls.
My thoughts flow to the eddy twirling At the edges of the pool. Ever new, but ever curling, Set in place as if a jewel.
How do I say this thing is made? Of rocks on river bottom laid? For if I plucked them from their bed, Would not this eddy then be dead?
Or does water, clear and formless Pause to dance above these stones? A stream of energy so harnessed, As my soul is to my bones.
Eddies • Opuss № I