I stand, amidst an eternal chaos,
The golden dusts once conspired.
In the playfield of lost experiences,
Haunt the lullabies it inspired.
As the old man takes a dip in limit,
So rests the huntsman long expired.
I stand, alibi to glorious intrudes,
The sons of three wombs acquired.
Nests, many lost, many new conquered,
The feathers, in the windfalls that highered.
The psalms of strength and speed,
The towers of wind and light admired.
I stand, lost in a peaceful conflict,
A trophy, the grey dusty men desired.
Where the warm, snug quilt of gold invite,
The pearls upon my moist skin that cried.
In the ageless tug of war, the sea beasts involved,
Churned golden riches, the salt ever aspired.