In a pond, a little fish said,
"Round like the circle, blue like the sky."
The fish gazed, and gazed, and swam round and round
Wonder what the roundness means?
Why the water whispers softly, over and over, over and over,
tales woven from currents, from drifting, rippling echoes,
that tell the fish of wandering dreams,
swimming syncopated through soft liquid skies.
"Round like the circle," sang the sobbing stream.
Once more they dance,
through the grassy fingers of the watching earth.
Imagine a fish under a dreaming moon,
its song blurs in the hush of the night,
singing gently, singing softly...
beat by beat, ripple by ripple, and so...
follow a curious trail.