When entering the Gorge, leave behind all preconceptions. Let yourself be carried off on a stream of consciousness that tickles the heavens as readily as it grinds down stone.

One Little Ball In One Little Hole


One little ball rolls along,

quietly passing by your eyes,

it moves in complete silence

and then you realize . . .

It’s gone!


The little wooden ball, where’s it gone? —

vanished as swiftly as it appeared —

you’re searching for it on the ground

and suddenly you disappear into a little,

little hole!


You’re following the ball that frolics along,

going down a path long since formed,

rolling on, it rolls, and rolls on still,

and when you think it’s stopped,

it rolls again!


The little wooden ball is joined by more

The two become three, the three become four

Increasing in numbers, together they roll

And when you lose count

even more come along!


Little wooden balls make up rolling falls,

surging, stampeding, onwards they roll,

dashing, smashing, crushing the rock,

and when you look below

there’s millions more!


Innumerable balls now bounce and roll

relentlessly they roar beyond control

They rumble and tumble off the walls

and then one stops and shouts:

‘Roll down the hall!’


Down the hall you ricochet on

rebounding and rolling with a torrent of balls

picking up speed — a deluge unfolds —

you can’t take it anymore more —

so faster they go!


Like thunder they roll and gather more power

they plunge with the strength of a meteor shower

one muscle, one ram, one ultimate force

and on the eleventh hour

the impetus grows!


Little wooden balls are crashing the course

impact is imminent so faster they go

relentless momentum blasts through the core

and then there was silence . . .

And one little hole!