Once upon a time there was an Indian Sikh

Who sat beyond a candle spry

And sifted the allures of the catching light

Among an anguished thread of sights

Inside his mind


That was a time of missed aims

Resting grave without a frame

To stand against the pain, the lame

That brisk heed ebbed from faith


But now it’s time to seek behind

The eluding fair of thoughts in thine

The vague recall, the one which falls,

Aerial wave that will reach and call


That waving kind and loose and tie

That, which tries and keeps, then dies


For there shall be a ravishing fate

‘Cause in thou you’ll find the escaping bait

The one you bite, beaten each day

For there shall be a flow, a tide