Streams flowing thru Gaia, underneath Caelum,
Thru lands of bedlam, via fluent courses carved
By the Spirit; we inherit the earth for awhile,
Flowing past pariah and dæmon, who’d dam
Us from Oceania great, wide, where we’ll abide
On the crystalline day when we’ve made our way.
We flow hither and thither, sometimes alone,
Yet at others alongside one another, touching;
And when we touch are we not much more than
Streams in the desert, but band of river grand?
And for awhile the sand of times slow as we flow
In and out, but then we part again; begin again.
Perhaps we are not meant to be one great river;
Oceania is our fate in the end, in which there
Is no ending, but only joining and rejoicing
In one body when we are no longer somebody
But everybody in one in grand Oceania wrapped
Round Gaia, touching Caelum . . . fulfillment.