The so-called wild horses of the water
stumbled all over the boulders
and fell steaming and foaming over
the world’s edge down the roaring
white way of the waterfall
into the black pool of the death
of motion at the bottom where
the cold stoned water lay
dense as a diamond of pressure and
the eye of silence stared unmoved
at the world’s cavalry falling in
to be the seer not the heard again.