I Could Not Accept From

Escape From The Power Of The Hunting Pack, And To Know That Wisdom Is Best And Beauty Sheer Holiness.

My Eye-balls Are Glass, My Limbs Marble, My Face Fixed In Its Marble Mask.

For You Are Abstract, Making No Mistake, Slurring No Word In The Rhythm You Make, The Poem, Writ In The Air.

Could Beauty Be Beaten Out, O Youth The Cities Have Sent To Strike At Each Other's Strength, It Is You Who Have Kept Her Alight.

The Elixir Of Life, The Philosopher's Stone Is Yours If You Surrender Sterile Logic, Trivial Reason.