A mission: to seek, I imply upon thy name,

Haunted by thine dubious existence.  

Thus, I am, ere and after the passed time,

Embodied with non-altering persistence.

Mute words I am expected to utter,

A cold statue in a hell-like hollow,

Without heed of people’s mutter,

Yet in my solitude I find no sorrow.

No interest I bear of non-forgotten,

Nor of that a poet calls diminish’d yore.

I dream only of a place less rotten,

Of a land where minority counts more.

There, after a mere glimpse of thee:
May you be the last I shall ever see.