Clouds Without Water

VIII So presently, most solemnly and slowly, Our fingers touched and caught ; our lipsreached forth And with a conscious purpose smote their holy Lives into one, and loosed their common wrath. Unto the ends of our dead universe Their frenzy rolled; henceforth no prince or power Should lift the sterile strength of that one curse Even to bring one thought to birth one hour. For now we knew; ” it is a lonely thing To sit supreme upon the single throne; ” But being come thus far, goes glittering: " It is a lovely thing to be alone! ” Silence! Beware to speak the fatal word That might inweave our two-ply with a third ! IX Wherefore again in sexless sanctity The mighty lingam rears its stilled sublime; The mighty yoni spreads its chastity Against the assaulting gods of space and time. Rather be Phoedra than Semiramis | I will deny you, though you doom to dare To abdicate, and risk the spirit kiss In the embraces of the wanton air. Why should we cast our crowns to gods unborn ? Why yield our bleeding garlands till the hour When to ourselves we seem a shame and scorn And seek some craft to span a statelier power? Not for a while evoke that sombre spell ! The present still exceeds the possible.