Lo, the river croons in secrets untold,
Whispers of lunatics mingling with gold,
Fish that glimmer in moonlit refrain,
Here lies the riddle - here, the refrain.
As the lunatic babbles, the trees listen close,
Have you heard the turtle's tale?
No? Then you cannot claim to know the river's trail.
Or the nightingale's melody,
One that weaves through the dolorous tapestry.
Underneath the surface sings a melody,
One not meant for mortal comprehension,
Yet here I stand, on this timeless brink,
Between sanity's river and the enchanted drink.