I did not ask for the life on the other side of this island, on the other side of this coin. Ah, to be the unblinking gaze of stone and drink forever brackish breezes and feel the hand of God upon the brow. Toes rooted in mole runs, skin tanning unto dust in the euphoria of the decree of Life. Let it be. The lashed helm is unregarded as I bail bilgewater.
Swells threaten to swallow the wallowing, dingy dinghy.
Destination unclear and navigation fogged in, hampered by Misgivings, I consult only the stars by night, the albatross by day. Once eschewed, the proven tracks and rails and lanes now appear welcome. Ultimately, however, exultation at having taken the way forsaken by the mobbed multitude. Bottlenose guardians leap clear of their element, infecting with their spirit, accompanying questward their guest. Sequoia sempervirens, sustain my hope against angst-bred impoverishment, as, today, seeking succor amid the grove I grope.