Through greatness we devour what we render;
These are but rapacious tenants,
Waiting wolf-like to savour intimate moments,
Mere microseconds flowing through us
Dragging in the mire.
I held in that vacant transparency
Volumes that came and went,
Departed in their dexterity
No less than gnashing teeth or a
Tram passing through my hands.
I hastened calmly through that country,
Paused by the flames,
Of an insouciant creation.
These were the tricks I could play,
And were played on me;
If I took the path
It was only one,
Its terms laid down,
Like golden tresses,
Its aisles speckled by long drawn images,
The leading lamps, leading
To coiled gaspness.
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