Where was he going, this man of ancient defines, Down to the weeds on the river bed? Spreading his wings upon the rushing waters, Splashing in dreams that lay below the surface, Reaching for a moment of happy every after, Where fireflies flail in oceans of chance. Where was it going, this time of lasting remains, Towards the seeds on the river bed? Growing in colours that bleed into one, The limpid skies now awaiting their reach, Of blooming chimes aloft in the run, Where fireflies leap for a moment of change. Dazzled in beauty, this man of distant defines, Where is the path to the rivers bed? Addled in mystery while flowing in glory, The weight on his wondering seizing the day, Rejoicing his heart when singing his story, The fireflies lead towards a glowing path.