As I look pitifully at the expression of the drowning man;
Picturing how he works his way,
Trying his capability; pleading Nature for his life back.
As the going gets helpless,
The drowning man makes scratches at the bank of the rushing brook;
Gathering a sum of clay tightly in his fist;
Death has his hands on him,
Moving alongside him, through the mindless brook;
Bearing him without mercy; stealing from humanity so helpless.