The clock moves round the circle line
No stolen joy
no steep decline
I stand within this quiet square
No sudden spark
no heavy care
The room stays dim in balanced gray
No golden light
no fading ray
I take the breath
I watch it go
A steady rhythm
soft and slow
No high to seek
no low to fear
No whispered word to keep or hear
I let the neutral river glide
Inside the calm
inside the tide
I drift along the unmoving tide
No loss to mourn
no tear to hide
Saxophone sighs
the sequencer counts
No falling drops
no climbing mounts
I breathe inside the balanced space
No hurried step
no empty chase
Slow blue measure
clear and plain
No joyful sun
no sorrowed rain
Not too early
not too late
Not to struggle
not to wait
