GEOMETRY OF MOODS

CONCENTRICAL, the universe and I Rotated on God’s crystal axletree, So perfectly adjusted in suspense I could not mark our split circumference, But sphere in sphere, devotion in devotion, Was a thing of folding air, a windy motion. My spinal pole, tipped with a globe of light, Stretched long as time into the infinite, And when I turned to look upon the face Of love’s incarnate form, tremendous space Inclined upon her mouth, the natural nest Where, throbbing like a bird, singed thought might rest. Concentrical, the universe and I Rotated on God’s crystal axletree, I core of the world, a bead in a ball of glass So pure that only Nothing could be less. O the earth ensphered me, liberal and warm, When the curve of heaven was her sleeping arm. Now cubical upon a fractured pole It creaks, scraping the circle of my soul.