Exile (orig.) 

Coming want pertains to its liftless shadows, 

bent rendering impossible all the old conclusions 

Borne on the breeze of sustainless optimisms, conscious daydreams 

like salesmen of old would believe they were always on the verge of millions.

A reduceless dank of dark of deepened reticence, dimunutive faith 

in likeness to reality of promising futures for a commonweal in vanishment. 

Making it easy to depart forever bereft of ritual farewell the dead ardour-memory time's already quelled.