Continuation

He had pressed the bounds of his body together; he heard them singing; it was the sound of motion, the sound of renewal in the push and pull of the waves. He looked at himself, at the extent of his being, which was warping, at his existence, which had shriveled in the narrowness. All the soil's capacity for roots, farther off, amid the motion of water and star and sun, was his continuation. He was drawn toward the single air outside, broke the rampart, and cast his being into the ring of light's warm arm; the wheat field blossomed, the wheat field blossomed...