From within ourselves we spring
the supreme paradox I sing
where nature coyly hides her sting
wound round the root of everything.
Just when you think you thought
what you won is what you fought
you’re busy filling the empty slot
of how you get by being got.
It speaks of things simply known
in hope of sprouting fully grown
rocky fields where seeds I’ve sown
heads aloft where hearts have flown.
From within ourselves you spring
the supreme paradox we sing
where nature wisely hides her fling
bedrock and nightstock of everything.
Suspecting something even deeper
reach across to nudge the sleeper
bound by sheets of a true believer
soaked reverie in love’s sweet fever.
Just when we think we lost
we find a spark burnt in frost
precious payment for hidden costs
bridging the river you must cross.
From within myself I spring
the supreme paradox you sing
where nature slyly shows her ring
wound round the finger of everything.
