- cifra
So many paths not taken
So many words unsaid -
Though I travel far, they bind me
In a web of golden thread
On the bank, three women passing
They measure time for me -
In the mirror of the water
They can but darkly see
I will walk beyond the meadows
With a child in either hand
Through the river’s many shadows
We will pass from land to land
All the promises unspoken
Lie like fallen leaves on the ground
But the thread is still unbroken
And the hidden may be found
When the wheeling birds are leaving
They pass the sinking sun
We will travel with the river-man
Until time and time is run.
