The Morning Star melts his blood
Upon the aged and weathered roads,
And sends a prayer with weakened hands
To the Moon and jeweled buds.
What apathy the Moon doth show
To this, his fathers setting son
Who rises now to other realms
While diamond angels follow.
Is this his doom? his only future?
Born of one to die for all?
I pray this so-- let me endure
What pain I may to end this fall!
When Breezes die a stagnant death
And Sweat returns to mother sky,
My senses sin and whisper lies--
You cannot breathe. There is no breath.
Yet without touch and without scent,
Without sight and without music,
Without sweetness to my tongue,
My lungs inhale aside my sense.
In this world, I do deceive
My captured soul with body free
Which only conjectures-- Do not believe!
Escape the evils of that Tree!
And lo when eyes rest in our brains
And Stars keep guard over the Moon
We dream of breezes in the Sun--
We wake to warmth of new domains.
Our lungs yet love what senses cannot sense,
Our souls yet love what bodies shun;--
And when our hands find themselves tied
And when our eyes find mists that blind
And when our ears find wax in them winds
And when our tongues find cotton dries
And when our nostrils find no air to grind
Then shall walls that ensconce the mind
Melt from day and drip to night
Release the hissing sweat of truth--
Offer to lambs eternal youth.
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