As luck would have it,

out he stepped into the same alley as I:

intrepid bent-backed master

venturing on where lofty winds blow;

a question tucked to a breath I held

yet saved and tossed aside upon his nearing,

a look of his look, the mask of his face;

though my intent were earnest and well-sprung,

the ambition of his step was seeded in an intrinsic quality

and rank of singular purpose,

that his eyes saw but one sight

and his hands and feet grappled to pull him ever closer,

unyielding and annoyed by the asking,

I ceded my vanity for his grace

and let him pass by without a word.