Someone far far away then seas and mountains,
memories of past like shells and rocks I contain.

Always visionary to my days, dark and bright,
and at difficult times worked, stronger and tight.

He is now old and out of mind,
though I can read him through my moral eyes.

He is bent down as evenings of Morning Glory,
ill, frightened and waiting to go.

I am buried in a desire, for a glance,
but hard unassurance veil enables me
for heavenly chance.

I know I shall preserve boundless essences of his life
the infinity of faith, the grace, the light till me alive.