Torn away from the pools—
Too soon! Too soon!
Whispered in my lonesome ear,
To come, to come…
A divinity alive inside itself and
Changing around the forward motion,
Of the catalyst of the earth.
Watch the cataclysm shove,
A jewel of life into your clampéd mouth.
Radiance of vermilion’s shade
Yet opening with only grey…
Come forth O cataclysm take!
Bring with me
Joy, peace, the fruit, the fruit…o live…
O you! thou art a fickle mistress,
Yet thine ivory skin calls me still,
The temptress of my own three eyes,
Waiting for strangulation that
None can give you…
Too soon, too soon,
Stripped bare of my reflecting pools,
Of time, of simple memory, of time…
That mirror of the soul
That yearns and shakes forever the branches
Of the human mind.
Email this story 
Print Story 
Add to reading list
