Pray tell me
for whom do You wait
on this lonely shore.

I row my boat of forms
on the ocean of formlessness,
forgetting none.
Moving on is my eternal wont.

No one can fathom
this rowing of boats
on the stream of time
from beginninglessness to endlessness;
neither philosophy nor science
can trace
its starting or culminating point.
I never pause.

After a day's hard labour
comes fatigue.
All return to their respective abodes.

The tired traveler comes to the bank
in expectation of a boat.
I am ever ready with the boat.
I never delay;
I'm never late.