Through the vast desolate sand where men rise,
Where scavengers peck at feet of heroes
And where kings rise and fall watching over
Like a mother watching over her child,
To rise or fall as warmongers or
To fill the spirits of peasants with love.
May the Gods be their witness for their fate
Of the countless lives behind special men,
They can see heroes rise like Achilles
Or a king who roams, who seeks to explore.

But here is the great Telemachus who
Watches over his people with much care,
Unlike his ungrateful father who left
Dear Penelope, Ithaca’s angel.
But he was away fighting his way home
From hunger from the lack of all their food,
With cunning thoughts he and his crew survived
The mighty Cyclops for his stash of food,
With help of gods to trick a sorceress,
To refuse the bitter-sweet melody
Of the mysterious Sirens with wax,
And escape the monstrous Scylla.

Cunning was Odysseus with great mind,
He escaped great perils and found a way
Still to trick her following men into
The trap to reclaim his old dusty throne.
So not his fault was his long time away,
For he did not find a quicker way home,
But now with the lust for his adventure
He feels the time to leave it all behind,
To travel again, maybe with his wife
Leaving it all to his son who seems to
Have done a job well done, maybe it will
Be better for his people to love him
Rather than himself.