Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning; 
At the source of the longest river 
The voice of the hidden waterfall 
And the children in the apple-tree 
Not known, because not looked for 
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness 
Between two waves of the sea.

Between rock, soil, and thorn
We emerge, we become
In dark dank mud
We begin with connotation
Saying it again and again
Quietly fearfully carefully
Hearing its meaning
Sounding its purpose
Sharing its singular beauty