النص (en)

Each one of us here today will, at one time in our lives, look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question. We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them. We can love completely without complete understanding. ¶¶ Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand in my youth are dead, even Jesse. But I still reach out to them. Of course now I am too old to be much of a fisherman And now I usually fish the big waters alone although some friends think I shouldn't. But when I'm alone in the half-light of the canyon, all existence seems to fade to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one. and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.