‘T was on a sojourn, many miles I’d gone,
‘Low xanthene sky of pink and bluish red.
And heard the zephyr’s xylophone in song,
When I’d arrive ‘neath Xanadu’s sunrise.
Wrapped in a flowing xanthic saffron robe,
While on a ladened Xebec sailing ship.
I looked across the prow at dawn’s first strobe,
The thrill against my heaving xiphiod!
Six members of the Xaverian sect;
An order of their brotherhood by birth.
Were on their way to witness for the Church,
To convert souls to raise them from the dirt.
It wasn’t meant to be a merry band,
They strained to know about the new old world.
To wander through a strange and mistic land,
And look a naked savage in the eye.
And yet in spite, we’d all heard tell the tales;
Of how ingenious, cultured, good and pure.
Now there we stood - the savages prevail
What did we have of theirs in which to lure?
The missionaries came to study them,
These people mythical that lived so long.
Who tilled, turned & gathered lightheartedly,
Harvesting children each day with a song.
Excelled in the making and uses of
Xylene for the industry of printing.
And their exquisite abilities in
the Teak-crafting art of xylography.
But I hoped to learn how, scant amounts of
Xenon in the thin atmosphere, supplied
Light for their nights in a valley fringed by
Snowbound mountains that held back...
...t h e f i e r c e w i n d s