Away somewhere along some other

Way was wound was found to be

Instead of self perhaps another,

Slipping tumblers, not counting mumblers 

Wading without sounding so within a silent sea

This whispery voice in code intoning sets

Lines of such discounted numbers, who regrets

What may not be shown and yet someone remembers

Or so it seems in place of a world known but all unknown,

Instead of self perhaps another

Way was wound was found to be

Away somewhere along some other , , ,