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.