We ran trips
              in the park
                  overlooking paradise,
    lost our way
               when every way was equal
forgot God
           while praising Him,
     thought we were
                 our shadows
         in the midst
   of all this light.

Then she swam
            in a man-made lake
       while I meditated
              by a man-made stream.

Little children
            crossed a bridge
                                  to me.
    “Come here! It’s a statue!”
          “No, he’s sleeping.”
                           “Touch him.”
  “No, you touch him.”
          “Look!
              His skin moves
                     when I touch him.
     He’s not a statue.”

                                     1973