continue, continue all over the earth,
the manner of the day is the same,
and the sound of the sky
is the silence you vie,
or, die and lie, or sing for—
like what lays within, or stands along,
and what falls without a sound;
what can touch you, you can touch;
you can feel the wind, or can’t you?
with your head, heart and hand,
right and wrong are all real,
save when truth is all you feel:
then all you’ll know is evermore
than all you chose to chase.