I gaze afar towards the distant seas,
Longing for home in lodging agony,
upon the rock I sow my sorrowful song,
where with the wind's guidance I sing in silence.
Then time flows in a rhyme,
of unending cycle in shape of spiral,
of life and demise as surmised in my songs,
yet I am still here alone sheared from home.
My skin no longer of gold,
now only in cold bronze to be borne with,
along my tail that no longer could sail,
I could not curse nor asperse my state.
For an object of stone and bronze could not even mourn.
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