The archipelagoes of a boyhood’s imagination:
the exoticism of islands so far east
they are unexplored expanses of the far west;
beyond them, flame-bright horizons, dreamers’ infinities.
Last evening, before sunset, beneath a sky, charcoal-blue,
Himalayan; above a misty-grey sea;
molten-magnificent and littered with low-lying islands
I found myself, again, looking out over those same South Seas.
That same enchantment, buried under years, unearthed;
a reminder that the age of exploration has not yet passed,
the excitements of childhood not yet spent;
an explorer may find limitless the wonders among the clouds.
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