He leaps from mountain peak to riverbed,
And answers every prayer,
Yet when I seek to know his name
There is nobody there.
He violates the laws and forms
Of his own cosmic enterprise,
And those who try to emulate him
End up mad or wise.
I do not know who birthed him
And I can’t describe his face;
At most sometimes I glimpse him
Watching me become his trace.
BEATING THE POISONED DRUM 