In the morning

his soul beat like the wings of a thousand summer
geese taking the sky.

In the winter

his thoughts are clear and cold as snowflakes.

in the evening

a song dances from his fingertips.

In the firelight

he grazes on the passions of smoke.

Who is this wandering king,
                      the sage of Stone Chime path?
From whence does he receive his powers?

From the gathering wind and the green-sea foam
it is carried on tiny wings.
From the rolling clouds and the starlit sky
He feels the grace of heaven.

Do not harm him for in his wrath,
he breaks the mountainside.
but the greatest danger is that his touch
will strip you bare of sorrows.

He has loved you since the dawn of days.
And in dreams he dreams of you
                        Naked under the sun
                              your former dreams
                                      shattered
                                            like ice on the stones.


-Jeremiah Griswold