He dipped
his pan into the stream
Hoping for a
glimpse of gold
And swirled
the water through the sand
To see what
wealth he could unfold.
Many times
he swirled that sand,
Many times
he dipped and sluiced,
Many times
his eyes beheld
The water
swirl and the sand reduce
And as he in
patient diligence worked
He found
things to please him well enough-
Coloured
rock, crystal or amethyst,
Stones flat
and smooth or jagged and rough.
Others
panned and some found wealth
But at last
he came to see
The gold as
merely the by-product-
The real
wealth was the creativity
And in
bending to the stream to work
He realised
that he too played a part,
In sand and
stone and search for gold
In speaking
of the human heart.
And if all
he ever pans is sand
He has dwelt
by the riverside,
Dipped his
pan into the stream
And searched
for where truth can reside.
