Looking out across
green valleys kissed.
By the God's
ambrosia mist.

So often I wonder.
Could that potion's magic?
Dissolve the evil
that turns good fortune tragic.

Then I sigh and question.
Why my concern?
Of events I cannot alter
and sadly to reality return.

Yet I must have been splashed
by that potion's spray.
For to concede I refuse.
Some good I shall do every day.