What pilgrim having Mercury at hand
delays departure for not having map
with every metric of suggested land
where souls that seek find shrines where they may nap,

What bones demanding rest are urged go on
ignoring frozen hope and freezing feet
regaled with sunny tales and coming dawn
where gems of truth with old ways will compete.

What breath releasing pent up trouble sore
requests no further revelation sure
but reassures the heart that what before
where voices silenced yearned will be no more.

What creature holding forth on way first made
but wishes bad will fade and good be stayed.