One by one my fingers gather,

merging into wider streams;

waters drawn from every mountain

mingled in a silver flow.

Twisting, turning, serpentine,

I run through quiet, sacred groves.

The ancient trees untouched and tall

all seem to whisper softly.

I rush toward the sleeping valley,

carving canyon cliffs,

playing catch-me-if-you-can

against the rising sun.

-- Charles Anthony Silvestri, The River's Lament, 2011, first movement

Yasova control-voltron. Still somewhat in flux.