Well, I never was a wise man, only a noble's son,
but this morning I looked deep into my water jar,
and I'm sure I saw my brother, his head bent like a bull's,
running through a barley-field, his hands filled
with fire, mouth open, eyes closed and streaming
with smoke -- and I called to him, No, brother!
Stop! Turn back! -- he never heard me
but then then he has never heard me, he always listened
another way.
copyright Vicka Rael Corey, 1984