My Road Leads Me Seawards To The

But He Has Gone, A Nation's Memory And Veneration, Among The Radiant, Ever Venturing On, Somewhere, With Morning, As Such Spirits Will.

What Am I, Life? A Thing Of Watery Salt Held In Cohesion By Unresting Cells, Which Work They Know Not Why, Which Never Halt, Myself Unwitting Where Their Master Dwells?

It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind, Full Of Birds' Cries.

My Road Leads Me Seawards To The White Dipping Sails.

His Face Was Filled With Broken Commandments.