a ripple against the flow
where the dark force took a solemn vow
and the hands that play the flute
a million lost along its tune
an impulse that squanders mercilessly
like hollow reeds withering sideways
time is running out
for the little frog that wallows in june mud
down the isle walketh the king
with heart of wishful delight
for the evening cometh golden hue
where the ferryman a well paid
night and day he wept to hear
to the sound of the merry wind
for the day’s divinity aloud sang
when the old rabbit at the gate of dawn
removed the ancient curse
Holden's Odyssey 