Haar’s stealth bestirs, around isles of my leaving
where I now levant, on long termed way.
But I‘ll return, to that birth of my meaning
redound from a choice, of my living foray.

With hetaerae acharné set on its venture
into a world, that man has decreed.
For what be life tied, to incumbent tenure
or denied a foison, or need to succeed.

To travel far, o’er land’s schismatic nature
see Elysium’s triumph encompassed so.
Who could blame me, to sire, love in such rapture?
tarry parture’s scene, to where I must go.

Yet I’ll return, to that land of my making
where, I first knew those assays of joy.
For a heart’s omphalos cries in its aching 
to rejoin such wonders, through eyes of a boy.

Mor.