O drops of dew,
where moisture seeks a home
and succulence wanders
carefully.
Are you but my own being?
O shade of leaves on branches
of a powerful tree caught in dawn’s light.
Can it be that your contrast
contains me as I create you?
O moving, sounding stream.
Are your goings my arrivals?
When did we, in folly,
separate and pretend to
be so alien?
You are my all, my hope and dream!
In me, you find your being,
and I in you.
Be not cool to me,
for I pledge to reunite!
And we shall tumble through
infinity together.
Ah, blessed unison!
–Dennis Crowley