Where is true depth?
In a black tar pit
Drawn upon the earth
Like a vast ebony dot
Bottomless in legend,
But impenetrable to knowledge?

Or in a crystal pool
Of cool water so clear
The searching eye can peer
All the way to its floor,
And see white shells and silt brown
So many fathoms down?

Where would love die?
In an ancient western land
Where eroding monuments stand
Twisted by wind from hardened sand,
Bright sun, deep shadow
Stone mirages in unending heat?

Or in a small green garden
Where lush vegetation grows
Nurtured by rain
Rested beneath snow
Reminders of life and motion abound
Familiar and simple objects around

This is my song to you
From a man who cannot sing
No symphonies, no poetry
Are in the gifts I bring
But I can lead you from the desert
Bathe you in clear pools
Show you to yourself in me
Forge, from old things, new.