this hillside patch of ground
my solid place to stand
in a fluid universe and time
living long enough to know
the trick is standing still
so many minds of then and now
countless spinning worlds
that never really change
the milky way goes down the sky
the moon stands in the open door
the ancient tortured consciousness
that knows of love and knows of death
to stand in a storm of memory
to listen for the peace
as hylas fill the air
to say the most that i can say
i am a man et cetera
