I sat upon a river rock above the bubbling stream
While the current passed me by, carelessly detached.
White foam licked the stone; I gazed as in a dream
Through the crystal waters. And thoughts I hatched,
In my nursery-mind, of songs that I would one day sing
When I was grown and the adoring had crowned me king.

The river ran its course and I without a thought
For how the world around me shifted with a passing breeze;
How what once was there, to here was brought
By water surging in its bed of boulders, roots, and trees.
Until the river brought a gift, my attention to implore,
Floating there amidst the foam too perfect to ignore.

Petals of pink and strawberry, a flowery star in bloom
Fallen from some hanging limb into the river running.
Gently I lifted the blossom from the watery womb
That gave beauty life. Colors sharp, each detail stunning:
Soft touch against my cheek, sharp fragrance in my lungs,
Tingling magic on my lips, ambrosia upon my tongue.

All my thoughts of fame and glory vanished in a flash.
For what small honor is the fickle love of that adoring crowd
When in my hands I held her? My heart drowning, awash
In steeped desire to sing for her, to make her proud
And her alone, my delicate blossom fair.
Through my parted lips I drew my first clean breath of air.

I took the flower with me into the river's cold surrounds
Floating where it would take me, six feet above the ground.


Penned by my hand on the 11th of Aeguary, in the year 387 AF.