Across the Sea I traveled
Spinning cloth and hair unraveled
But younger than before
And though, yea, my dimming eyes
And wanton, furtive, between my thighs
I hastened toward Death Door
But if there at last I wandered
Spinning thread, and vagrants garnered,
What now of Death’s Door?
For if the Time, I press rewind
But in My Mind, I Am Divine
And so the Door of Death beheld
I laughed and cried and tugged though veiled
But no longer chaste I wailed
I hungered as Before