creeping through the moon,
the water children, coming,
tear silently away the cushions of the
laughing world.
alive, and well,
eating and sleeping on the cold pavement.
they are the water children,
and the propagation of a variation
on the theme immortal.
where do they go?
after all the limiting values are taken
away?
where do they go?
once the music is finished?
there is no place for the water children,
without purpose wandering, now,
in the midst of a coiled spring world, so tense,
waiting for abrupt release.
unneeded, yet alive and waiting, calmly, forever,
for the chance to take what is theirs,
by right and by fortuitous
chance.
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