Incline of that which is immortal,
Deeper still than blood and bone
And more human than mortal.
But more alone.
He encompasses all,
Though being owned owns none
Save for the leaves he sheds at fall
To hide from the dying sun.
And far from life, he stretches to the stars
To grasp Polaris by his glowing stem,
And with one mighty heave hurls him into Mars;
And dares to condemn
Ah, who could put it past a man
to find fault amongst a star;
or when sighting from land
look far too far?