Canticles Devoted to the Manifolds

A life Cerulean

When I, was alone in the sea of chance,

I yearned for your love above the yonder crest.

Should all my attempts, fail within a prance,

I wept, waited for the agony to rest.

Then I was alone on the heath of hope,

And were all remedies naught but in flaw.

For the sea of chance left me none to grope,

By sore regrets, I lived through mortal law.

Fare ye well, for the dirk incisive be,

It reaves the sorrow, till I could none see.

Raise the portly bier, to that old yew tree.

Do wit me not, and by that, I prithee.

"Thou shalt live happily to eternal dream,

For I dream for thee in life cerulean."