Dam that rushing river
Wash that impure soul
If I ain’t Christ again then
I am a lump of coal
A Million years of pressure
Or one day on the fire
I am as useful as
The Element of desire
Your Eyes are flowing water
Into the curious clay
In beauty human form ferment
And who next to I stay
Carved by rushing voices
Sing stream current lust
A person catches glimpses of
Pure beauty’s handmade bust
