I've tried the tides of lonely lands

as men might try the new moon in the air,

brought over water glossy, fair,

and running with white shadows of the sands,

and found them pleasant when, in clutch of sunless days,

I dove between their cresting waves.

Enveloped by the foam, I found

and seized from sacred realms of mystery

collective soul and history

that dazzled me and held me wonderbound.

My heart unparted, and I placed the human root

into a scroll of love and truth.

I let it shuffle on a whim

into a stream of soft and sipping tone,

of what it is to be alone,

of breath beneath the new moon's frosty rim.

This thing possesses me to shed my ghastly hue

and ask a daisy what to do.