The Stone on the Shore

it is addressed thusly:
A song.
it reads:
Time passes, I am but its witness
The steady sound, the pulse suggests
A cycle which must go on unless
There is an end to what now exists
My heart yearns for what is more
Reaching as it were, just beyond
Despite this, halting just before
Haunted by the suggestion of sound
What motions would I offer in turn
I who know nothing of nothing at all
I must go back; and begin to learn
Even back before I can recall
The sea under the autumn's color
Which I have never before seen
A leaf alights; and what befell her
Under this - a peaceful scene?
Is it my mother, or her mother before
In my body such things never were
How can I remember anymore
That which to me did not occur?
The sea's inchoate sound rises
A lapping like a clock's wound
A motion of unseen devices
A breath of a child's sleeping-sound.
We do not know if it is day or night
The sun is full of clockwork mystery
We are not blind, who have not sight
But still we are waiting at the sea;
And then the voice of one singing
-- is heard above its comely rush
One's own voice, the wind bringing
The echo's call to a distant hush
To remember sight is like seeing
For that is how man must watch
The time which is past being
Drawn into the sea and lost;
Behind is a sound of another kind
But we turn not to see its source
In this place of peace we find
Will to let things run their course
The song is faint; but it is our own
It still knows what we cannot confess
Whence we came, what is our home
Thus time passes; and I, its witness
Have heard the wind and water groan
Those with ears and eyes saw less
And I- yet I! Am but a stone.

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