Shear chaos rules the world yet for a season,
The spirit guides the waves, but does not control.
Though we be mired in shallow muddy shoals
Without a rudder and no clarifying reason
Still subtle currents stear us to our goals.
Chaotic waters birth a plenitude.
So as we curse and struggle with the tides
And by mere stars traverse the ocean wide,
Always recall with healthy gratitude
That in the spirit's hope we do abide.
There's something going on here, a commutation.
As we evolve, what will we turn to be?
Transmuted by an inner alchemy,
Effulgence of the soul's transfiguration,
We face ourselves, the final mystery.