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.