O’re the inky pool of black,
I throw pebbles,
as with the light of a thousand worlds.
They come whistling down,
with tiny splashes,
creating ripples on the still surface.
The white light from the stones,
shines a new light on the desolate world below.
Quiet rays come drifting past,
fish swim stilly along,
the cool light bouncing off their scales,
in thousands of tiny rainbows.
The stones land in the bottom
stirring up small clouds of silt.
Their light will shine,