BEYOND REASON
Reading edition
THE blessing in this conscious fruit, the hurt Which is unanswerable, fill the brow With early death. O Sion of my heart, The milk of love were charitable now. I do not come intent to be your lord, Nor to contract the empire of your flight, But as the long eye holds the spinning bird Enclosed in the circumference of sight And yet the bird is infinitely free To dip its beak into the thinnest air, So do I stand. I am not destiny To color time or plot a hemisphere. Creatures that carry in their little blood Malignant influences moved to keep Delight from love, the lonely from the proud, Destroy themselves to live. If in my sleep The ape, the serpent, and the fox I find Shut with my soul in fortune’s writhing sack, I tame them with the sections of my mind And teach my mind to love its thoughtless crack.