There is a fish, that quivers in the pool, br itself a shadow, but its shadow, clear. br Catch it again and again, it still is there. br br Against the flowing stream, its life keeps pace br with death - the impulse and the flash of grace br hiding in its stillness, moves to be motionless. br br No net will hold it - always it will return br Where the ripples settle, and the sand - br It lives unmoved, equated with the stream, br As flowers are fit for air, man for his dream.