I never thought I'd dry up in a pod
Letting the sun and air and breezes blow me
Around and round in circles like wafted clod
In dizzy stream washed smooth and shaken loosely.

I never thought I'd be a man of means
Like some long lost lonely wretched reader
Reading a book though he can't derive the themes
Like to he that's poor and's lost his meter.

I am not me, nor less nor more than me
In circles ending up at wretched start
As one who's blinded can not hope to see
But left in world is made to plan and chart.

I'm less now than I was, yet strangely more
For now I've been what I but was before.