Hand Moves Slowly Poem by Ajay Seshadri

I'm nondescript now but I hope that the woods can tell me
The pebbles all make sounds and I search for their maker
The streams follow through to lift the beats as I move on
But I cannot find the maker for where is he?
The birds are few and so in-between I can hardly see them
I finally reach the banks of a pagan river and sit on the raft
I remain seated waiting for my customer for I need the money!
When? I hope it doesn't get too long for we are all slaves of time.
I notice one approach me for a trip to where he does not tell me
We move as the river helps us in our journey that I cannot rightly call
He makes no sound and does not talk and I am on the rows,
The trip is over and he pays me and that's all I can ask for!