You'll find yourself in still water,
Full moon silhouetting the sky.

The long train of desire, having gone,
Pulled out from this quiet pool of shadow,
Will have left you at peace with your hands,
A few flowers moving in the breeze.

There will be music in the wind,
A future found in some alcove of blossoming trees;
Each highway will have driven itself away,

And so you will be left, finally, alone:
Abandoned, even, by any word you've ever cared
    to read.