listen to the strings cry above the river
as George seeks service in honour of George
while notes like larks dive mischief to the depths
they plumb the chambers of the hardened heart
sounding echoes off once silent stirring soul
the soul that weeps at the beauty of it all
the soul that flies to consume-capture it all

but it was never about water in the end
just the current moving strength of creation
that humbles even the crown that rides the crests
a reminder that royal brow does not annoint itself
but is annointed from without
that they might be humble from within