Pan-Man

Sitting beside the curling water,
I play softly without
Thought to what,
If anything,
I play.

Only liking the sound,
The hollow sweetness
Of the notes changed
By water and darkness;
A lullaby synthesized,
To haunting immensity,
To that I should not
Help but to cry.

Thus-far from heaven,
The world has become
A different thing,
Then ever I'd known it
To be.

by Norman Lloyd West

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