Its yours and it flows where you deem
It useful in matters of learning;
For some, like a brook; for others a stream;
A river for those more discerning.
It knows where you are, it can find you
And float you to places so far,
Beware its reflections may blind you
And make you forget who you are.
Although through the meadows it goes,
To Paradise never it bends,
For heaven starts where the sum of what flows
From all of humanity ends.