Now comes good sailing: sheets filled, water curling from the bow, heeling to the wind, sun glinting on white foam, and no need to return to land. But maybe I shall miss the land: the shadowed forests and the endless plains, moose, bison, caribou, bear, wolf, and mountain lion, and the ghosts of cultures fading from ancestral grounds, nobility displaced by politics, Abenaki, Passamaquoddy, Wolastoqiyik, Mi’kmaq, and Penobscot — now just Indian. No, no, I’ll take to water, steer a course by sun and stars to where there is no you or I, but just the sea reflecting sky in rolling waves.
"Henry David Thoreau".
from "Last Words" - a sequence of poems each starting with the last words (sometimes apocryphal) of a well-known person. (Note in Comments.)
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