I Am The Slave Of

The Poet, Therefore, Is Truly The Thief Of Fire. He Is Responsible For Humanity, For Animals Even; He Will Have To Make Sure His Visions Can Be Smelled, Fondled, Listened To; If What He Brings Back From Beyond Has Form, He Gives It Form; If It Has None, He Gives It None. A Language Must Be Found…of The Soul, For The Soul And Will Include Everything: Perfumes, Sounds Colors, Thought Grappling With Thought

It Is Wrong To Say: I Think. One Ought To Say: I Am Thought. I Is Someone Else.

Idle Youth, Enslaved To Everything; By Being Too Sensitive I Have Wasted My Life.

I Found I Could Extinguish All Human Hope From My Soul.

Yet This Is The Watch By Night. Let Us All Accept New Strength, And Real Tenderness. And At Dawn, Armed With Glowing Patience, We Will Enter The Cities Of Glory.