 |
How they would
with unmanageable vigor surge
to sieze their longed for consummation
and erupt
in one flaming liberation
of the carnal urge!
I know what you are thinking,
you who read this poem,
but you are wrong.
And even I,
who write what I can hardly see
with all my concentration vexed,
must too concede,
my conqured nature
is not truth nor lie,
nothing would commit,
nor will, nor fall
against the Rock that it is built upon
to be dashed and damned
rather than stand,
and not my thought, but what it hinges on,
must only matter
now, and to the bitter end.
x
