Dappled trout
in evening water,
like slices of rapid light,
glide faster and faster
through hissing silver folds.
In this confused movement
that never stops,
one mistakes
a trout for a stone,
a stone for a trout:
so human souls
speed through crystal
streams of open eyes,
where a soul is taken
for a stone,
and a stone for a soul
hurtling in confusion
to their equal goal.
