Literature
Alexander the Great
This sea's arms are not enough alone,
spread wide and wider, spanning out
beyond my reach, to that western
edge where men go to their ends. I,
left the familiar world in my left hand,
not old nor bold enough to challenge
the killing sea I know, am quiet, pensive.
Met by red earth, led by bright star, the child
Apollo rising bright and red, alive, each day
I wake, pensive, quiet. To find that place,
the spring of life from which Apollo leaps,
that is my goal. Guided by the free
right hand, I will charge east, ever on
until I find that eternal ocean, the counter
to this infinite sea of end belonging
to my father, his forefathers, and the dying