Where icicles are forming fast
        In crystal lines and curves
Arpeggios of tinkling glass
        Are chilling child-like nerves

The rodent wind is gnawing
        At the marrow of your bone
Glissando swells of sand-white snow
        Abandoned and alone

              Your shadow is a specter
                     And your face a glassy pane
              Ball of wax, the moon does wane

An alabaster traveler
       Whose ancient features fade
Into the grey and frosted field
       Where each twig forms a blade

His lantern burning dully.
       He searches for the true
Beside a black and rotted trunk
       He catches up with you

And will he leave dejectedly
       And plod on until day
Or will you reach to comfort him
        And give him room to stay?

And though it’s cold and snowing fast
       And you are miles from home
You welcome him with outstretched arms
       And share your secret poem

The meaning is not clear to him
       The rhyme scheme sets a doubt
The truth you thought was evident
       Has somehow slithered out

He mentions that a simple song
       Sung by a boy of ten
Is closer to the spirit
       Of the omnipresent Zen

Aside from the obvious connection to nature (the interconnected web of existence) there is the striving for truth and the search for new sources of knowledge. The story of Diogenes is old but still valid. (7,4)