Across the vastness of the southern hemisphere.
Rides a man, world-skirting in his ship.
Maybe he sees what others do not.
The simple beauty of a place man forgot.
It is with this he cruises along.
Looking at the world with a sense of being.
Sensing a hand of fate;
Guided across this perpetual landscape.
Occasionally, a glint shines from his eyes.
Witnessing spires of a time long ago.
Veering off course; people say it’s derivative.
Though, he sees it as his moral imperative.
For the day might come when he will land.
Placing his feet upon those fated sands.
Grasping towards where no man stands.
Starting anew, here, no matter all the places scanned.