Sunday, March 29, 2015
The skull must be penetrated by the image
In your eye, it is a brain of wonderful facets.
My acts are geared towards the present,
Its charm is only to be with yourself and me.
These are the facts of the whole dietary law,
The feeding grounds and the vanity of people.
My enchanting dream bespeaks miracles,
I can afford the tragic presence of vicars and saints,
For piety will desert the evil men of the higher sort.
Inside the heart is a desultory enjoiner called pain,
The intellect is surpassed by some majestic joy,
Sometimes the joys of the Hereafter are in brains.
Topic(s) of this poem: body