Sickened by sun, with rainstorms lashing him rotten
A looted wreath
crowning his tangled hair
Every moment of his youth apart from its dream
was forgotten
Gone the roof overhead, but the sky was always there
Oh you, who are flung out, alike from heaven and from Hades
You
murderers who've been so bitterly repaid
Why did you part from the
mothers who nursed you as babies
It was peaceful and you slept and there
you stayed
Still he explores and rakes the absinthe green
oceans
Though his mother has given him up for lost
Grinning and
cursing with a few odd tears of contrition
Always in search of that land
where life seems best
Loafing through hells and flocked through
paradises
Calm and grinning, with a vanishing face
At times he
still dreams of a small field he recognises
With a blue sky overhead and
nothing else
