We walk softly across the sands without,
The golden sun filled with silent sadness.
We know that life has not enough madness
To keep us occupied from thought or doubt
Of time’s everlasting answer to a shout
Begun before a man was ever witness
To the birth of first light and changeless
From creation. The sun has done its bout
And now we have finished walking across
The sands and have refound the salted waves.
We searched for water pure but found the tart:
Answers instead of cures – we are at loss.
Yet we keep wandering and remain slaves,
This thirst, it strikes much deeper than a dart.