In wonder I plunge and ponder,
I stand as a child of stars,
fated to scatter to the end,
what property of these parts are mine?
Hark! To a million years afore and yonder,
It was here, but was not me.
Now it is, and now I know:
none of it will, whilst I may be.
It is matter,
but not what matters.
The form means nil, but the means mean I.
As it be the parts that make me fade,
cast to another label whilst I be,
I can be.
I do.
I stand as a child of stars,
fated to scatter to the end,
what property of these parts are mine?
Hark! To a million years afore and yonder,
It was here, but was not me.
Now it is, and now I know:
none of it will, whilst I may be.
It is matter,
but not what matters.
The form means nil, but the means mean I.
As it be the parts that make me fade,
cast to another label whilst I be,
I can be.
I do.