My face near the water,
The sound, just an element.
The same thing I saw, but under the water,
Weightless breath, in a chilly stream.

Those rocks that have a shine,
The trees I see as uprooted,
The same thing I saw, but under that tree,
Where’s my place now, I dream the sleepy stream.

What fellowship is here,
Where it’s not heard,
The same thing I saw, but now woke up under the lamp,
Where is it real, with the dream of that stream?

©2007, Ron Globe