Through myself, I glue myself to the hard oak roots that I grew myself.

I bring myself to spring myself, but that’ll never happen if I cling myself.

I don’t wander; I know where I am:

In the middle of a river, I’m a hot dam,

Boiling the water as it pools up high.

Behind myself, I’ll find myself the quiet comfort that I’m myself.

I know myself can grow myself; I claim the quiet show myself.

I don’t wander; I know where I am:

In the middle of a river, I’m a hot dam,

Boiling the water as it pools up high.

In time, the steam disintegrates my seams and integrates. the stream

‘Til out the new tears like tears it cries.

I shine myself, align myself; for the yet-to-be I prime myself.

I face myself and grace myself before the void in which I place myself.

I don’t wander; I know where I am:

In the middle of a river, I’m a hot dam,

Boiling the water as it pools up high.

In time, the steam disintegrates my seams and integrates. the stream

‘Til out the new tears like tears it cries.

I know myself can grow myself: I claim the quiet and show myself.