There comes a time to give
To give and give and give
As the source ethereal
Forever boundless remains.
A vessel, aperture or spirit, no less
What there, below, swells.
It is not the I that such current draws
But the current that the I distorts
Should one so permit
Its abundance, put lightly, simply to be.
I cannot shape what I is;
What I becomes, surely,
Or the past the I can recount.
The present, however, is but what I allow.