Within such worlds
I saw a globe—a globule of light.
In it reflected was the emerald of earth and
Her envelope of sea and sky.
Neptune’s dominion, the mind, defies,
Fathoms deep, where jeweled things sigh
And the fortunate sink, sink, sink and lie.
The hours and years move as salted sand
Slides soft through fingers of an open hand.
Above, the ceaseless stars in a universe
Whose limitless leagues inspire poetic verse.
And upon a bit of turf sit I, a sad thing cursed
To forever ruminate on the daydream’s hearse.
Not winged nor gilled nor free am I
To sink or sail through sea or sky.
Apollo’s golden horses cry
For riders, but I cannot rise.
Instead, my thoughts to Erebos turn,
And as Caliban did, for the clay I yearn.
The million corpses lying prone
In homes of root and binds of bone--
So, too, will this be my cloister last.
I’ll sequester myself to all things past,
While futurely, the great ones arrive,
Make sacrifice to hear what we knew when alive.
To Erebos, that immutable gate,
Does my enduring place await.