From the well of Origo,
the serpent of aeons flow.
We have given you a name.
Stream of Time you are called
from the depths of the earth.
You flow straight through our lives
Like the stars adrift as guiding points,
you drift also from your source
always rolling on and on.
Is there a purpose at your core?
If my words in solitude could have
lingered in these rooms
here visits may have been longer
Despite my efforts to bend the flow,
it's me that stretches thin.
So tranquil is your surface,
everything is at peace, in your image
the calmness in your pace
may easily fool our minds
and you may turn upon us.
Always out of reach and
always in the mirror
you run wild and far
the sky within your mirror.
You run wild and far
and by your banks we may find rest at last
our common life is all there is
your soul equals our reflections
constantly you drift past us.
With us, beneath us
upstream, downstream.