Such joy to sit 'midst plains, so vast
And contemplate the mandrake root
Watch buffalo meander past
Hyena, brown, devour its loot.

Yet when this contemplation lasts,
When sun has fully come about,
When rain has faln', or storm has crashed
Just who, I wonder, seeks me out?

I've yet to find a band of gold
To sparkling leash does not soon turn.
Tis nature's skies, her forests bold
For which my soul will ever yearn.

Yet...

To find a one who's passion falls
'Pon oceans' shores and deserts' sand,
A one who's soul does soar, not crawl
That ring may not so brand...

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Ferinus, in the year 486 AD.