Join in black December's sadness, lie in August's welcome corn. Stir the cup that's ever-filling with the blood of all that's born. Talking to the trees of the cobweb strange, Sleeping on the steps of a fountain, Waving silver wands to the night-bird's song, Waiting for the sun on the mountain. I am a part of the sun and the sky, and the heavens above move where the rivers flow, fly with the breezes forever. And the earth and the sea and the hills and trees, they're a part of me.
All life is one.
Genetic blends, with uncertain ends, On a fortune hunt that's far too fleet. Fell asleep, had a dream by the winter tree, heard the snow fall and melt into spring. Saw the ice lose its hold on the pale frost grass to which it clings. A spider wanders aimlessly within the warmth of a shadow, not the regal creature of border caves but the poor, misguided, directionless familiar of some obscure Scottish poet.