Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

May I be reconciled with Father Time and our Mother
(of Necessity) and my Cousin Chaos and may I know
How sweet Aether spawns such wonders while nary
Lifting a finger. Asking your introduction and, if needed,
Intercession to be more with fair-haired Kairos. May he
Teach me his eye ear touch and exquisite sense of time.