I spent one lonesome afternoon Travelling down Marcel Lane; Like the plight of a pilgrim, Forever seeking my pendulum, I come far to wash my faith clean And to pray for blessed clarity Here, where all good things reside - Molten gold pierces the canopy; Aflame the liquid amber leaf In glorious sinew red and yellow! A jaded leaf weeps to the summer wind And the wind whispers wisdom Through vast thickets of bamboo Do you hear? - I see old wounds upon the oak trees Scars of birth and age combined Alike a spirit moved, carved by timeless avail For children climb in search of higher fortune Watching fruit as they saturate Loosen, fall, and explode onto asphalt: And soon come those rivers of amber tears - My hands were younger then, So moist and light and tender; From womb to rest, I come hither A sacred place of wisdom To learn that secret guarded well: How to live in age, as gracefully As the cycle of life marches on.