To escape world’s relentless strain,
From life’s cycle, to epic refrain,
Wander with Homer’s visionary eye,
Where Sappho’s verses lie.
A young man, burdened by false mirth,
Packed his bags and left the earth,
Seven mountains, four seasons he’d chart,
Poseidon’s wrath could not deter his heart.
The sun glinted in his disillusioned gaze,
Along the shore, in a quiet haze.
All he owned had...
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