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3 matching pages
Page 1 of 11939 · PDF PAGE 10
…Without being or form or abode, without motion or matter, the fold Where the shepherded Universe sleeps, with nor sense nor delusion nor dream, No spirit that wantons or weeps, no thought in its silence supreme. I sit, and am utterly still; in mine eyes is my fathomless lust Ablaze to annihilate Will, to crumble my being to dust, To calcine the dust to an ash, to burn up the ash to an air, To abolish the air with the flash of the final, the fulminant flare. All this I have done, and dissolved the primordial germ of my thought; I have rolled mys…
1939 · PDF PAGE 6
… with soul, though the soul seem one and alone of its kind. The body is naught but a corpse, its growth but a name of decay, A delirious dream of sick godswhere the Shadow hath sway. Concocted of offal and mire, putrescent with cancer of breath, A knot that unravels to naught, a riddle whose answer is Death? The mind is the reek of the fume of the bodys corruption, the mime Of its magotty moods as it rots from its worm-eaten egg to its slime. The mind hath not even a mist to excuse philosophic pretence Of a substance; at most it distorts some…
1939 · PDF PAGE 11
… am, that I am, tis enough. I am part of a glorious game. Am I cast for madness or love? I am cast to esteem them the same. Am I only a dream in the sleep of some butterfly? Phantom of fright Conceived, who knows how, or how deep, in the measureless womb of the night? I imagine impossible thought, metaphysical voids that beget Ideas intangible wrought to things less conceivable yet. It may be. Little I reckbut, assume the existence of earth, Am I born to be hanged by the neck, a curse from the hour of my birth? Am I born to abolish mans guil…