Born ’neath the roots of the flowers and the trees.
Wayward and free
Listen to me—
I am the Now and the Never-to-Be!
Slowly I rise in the cool of the gloaming,
Softly I creep through the grass and the leaves,
Over the river, on past the men homing,
Men living lives midst the fruit and the sheaves,
Airy and light,
Filmy and white,