He floats upon the great and terrible sea,
merciless waters that rise unabated till,
at last, they cover over head and tail the
man who once walked tall and proud o'er
a landlocked shire.
Civilization exists by cosmic decree, yet, on
celestial whim, all that man has wrought
burns or drowns or rends itself in twain, no
one the savior of his fellow nor protector
of riches amassed.
He knows -- he truly knows -- that all he was
warned to do it is now too late to ponder
or act upon; for he laughed that Fate might
ever have her way and carry him off to a
place of dark and living death . . .