When I was a young man, 
I’d go down the street
with my soul's briefcase,
and an empty wallet.

I‘d wear a blind shirt,
a green chameleon tie,
my soul's jade boots,
and the blush of his sky.

I would button my raincoat 
listening to the blue dawn’s echo.
My soul’s anxious gaze stared
through his stained glass windows.

Now an old man,
I fly through semi-darkness,
listening to the sound of my soul's
willow flute, and his secret river.