I'm languished here in lack of lit'rature,
for treading words - writ oceans black and pale.
I woe my want of discipline demure
to hoist my mental canvas and set sail.
To set this sextant sentence south to north,
my odyssey sees strange sands lap aground
with trepidation slipping slowly forth,
and omnipresent, inauspicious sound.
Please show me now around this simple isle.
Lead me by hand to cliffs by time distressed.
Forgive me then if I retreat a while
to cast off, searching ****** shorelines' rest.
This covered ground, font foliage, anon
will meet me once this weary world is gone.