One stroke at a time, now and then in spare moments
retracing the strokes with water
during ten times a hundred thousand years
I wrote
one word.
After a time, later again
quietly searching out the place, then
my hand's touch exploring gently,
retracing each of the strokes,
after passing yet again ten times a hundred thousand years,
I wrote one word.
In the etched form of each stroke gleamed
a gorgeous rainbow,
in the sun's rays lighting the water
a rainbow of the currents.
There were the times once when I listened,
inclined my ear to the messages, but
having heard
then afterward, and afterward
recorded the inner sense of those words,
now I find that
after carving a few ancient characters
year upon year, for too long,
I have completely forgotten
what words I wrote.