From science and history, traveled to
The realm of poetry and my story,
I have moved to the future, the void
That is the realm of nought, philosophy.
I traveled all the way by river boat,
I am rocked by the waves of its time.
I sink the screw into the water, churn
My way upstream, then lift it out again
So I drift once again in the frothy flow.
I seek at once both mouths and sources, sense
And dark nonsense and, between, a new sense.
Can I rule, be a hero, and a saint?
An artist, with each image that I paint?
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