To the guests in this reversed world.

Adieu and farewell, goodbye to my dear ones,
That politely disputed me, even those that drew guns.
The time for my departure has reached the high point,
Do not throw rocks at me nor do my head anoint.

The dwelling is calling and I must return,
Where Zero has ceased and philosophies burn,
Beyond the nebula of ceaseless worries,
Where fetid tongue is plucked, there are no foul stories.

This squalid experience in a decaying realm,
Compels me to grab my liberating helm,
I'm setting sail, no more will you see,
The scribbles and thoughts manufactured by me.

Return home I must where time progresses onward,
And does not slumber in the path of inexorable downward,
Go home, mariner, where events are in their positive course,
The reversed world I bequeath, on those that crave for worse.

Beyond the Horizon, the poet recited,
Where all the fears from my back alighted.
Beyond the invisible on the low line in the sky,
Where the mist and dew collide, a martyr cease to cry.

The muse(r) I am, philosopher and teacher,
Though some may call me Rabbi or even a preacher,
All languages I speak, I'm a linguist and polyglot,
They cast the dices, the fate adjudged my lot.

Beyond the heavens, where there are no probabilities,
Beyond the experience, without impossibilities,
An absolute is affixed like a cemented stone,
To my home I go, I leave you alone.

The silver thread is broken, and golden I received,
By thinking that you progress the humanity is deceived.
The nil you'll never reach, ad infinitum you roll.
In the negative, beneath Zero, forever you will stroll.