On first looking into Clive James' 'River of Stars'

I had always thought myself a Spiritual Genghis or the tulku of the Jebtsundamba Khutuktu

Till I read his 'Old Shantih Town' & became a forlorn shadow of Tambimuttu

All my years of trying, scrying, dying to become a Dad
I envied not this rotter till I saw his daughter daubs in a manner far from bad.

Envoi

Prince! Thy Naukrates, so secure in oikos- grey marble grinds me green

So solitarily have I striven, a scion to sire, since scarce, sore, a teen.