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Lower the Goat

We are leaving Roma after three days of exploration. We are the sons and daughters of Aeneas, and we will forever be looking for him. Perhaps his fleeting soul has found the cool waters of another Flume Tevere stars away far beyond the grasp of any of our machinations. Nonetheless, we search for him and his answers, and we abandon Rome amid the wails of those haggard shades of hags. They may have burned our ships, and fed our squalling offspring to the boars in the hills to detain our wanderlust in order to try for another wave of swollen bellies, but we ride on wings inspired by the gods. So we remove ourselves from these seven hills to the coasts of Amalfi, where the lost dead whisper for us to lower the goat.

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