Out of reach from any sound,
Beyond the highest thought,
Invisible across an astral scene, too

Aeonian home,
Forever free

The planets are like
great eyes to me,

My wife owns the moons.

The kids have turned
all fix'd and strange,
Been feeling awfully tame,
Poor things,

Remembering days
insane with esprit,
Moving willingly
through tilted palms,
On crescent waves,

Surrounded by
the clearest ever blue,

Deep under sanguinary hues
and tropic reverie that loom
to meet the sever'd, melting sun,

Arising horizons,
One hundred and one

As violent as fire,
Enough for them all!