Still I wonder how it is to be a stream
 From a dark well constant flowing
 Winding seawards over ancient mossy wheels
 Yet feel no need of knowing
 Still I wonder how it is to be a tree
 Circled servant to the seasons
 Only drink on sky and rake the winter wind
 And need no seal of reasons
 Still I wonder why I wonder why I'm here
 All my words just the shaft of my flail
 As I race o'er this beautiful sphere
 Like a dog who his chasing his --
 Tailors and tinkers, princes and Incas,
 Sailors and sinkers, before me and like me...
 Still I wonder how it is to be a bird
 Singing each dawns sweet effusions
 Flying far away when all the world has stirred
 Yet seek no vain conclusions
 Still I wonder if I passed some time ago
 As a bird, or a stream, or a tree
 To mount up high you first must sink down low
 Like the changeable tides of the
 Caesars and Pharoahs, prophets and heroes
 Poets and hobos, before me and after me all the
 Painters and dancers, mountainside chancers
 Merchants and gamblers, bankers and ramblers
 Winners and losers, angels and boozers
 Beatles and Bolans, raindrops and oceans
 Kings, pawns and deacons, fainthearts and beacons
 Caesars and Pharoahs, prophets and heroes
 Poets and hobos, before me and after me...