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In contemplating immortality,
I find myself arrested by the thought
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No voice from heaven had been heard
(at least not with the human ear)
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I would that all conundrums be
of Looking Glass simplicity,
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Paradoxically, I'm feeling
that my foolish mind is reeling
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Perhaps the butterfly displays it best
when freed from self-imposed sarcophagus,
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Can there be creatures that I so revile
as those who wish to drive distractedly,
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Some angels came to visit me,
arrayed in coats of shining white,
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She takes her rest near sunlit pane,
into her garden fondly peers
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I stand before an empty reservoir,
a wretched blackness I can't understand.
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Intoxicated by your scent,
one sees your satin gown alone
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You're born of water and of sun,
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Oh, blessed master of serenity,
bestow on me those secrets that you keep:
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These hazy cumulonimbi
in which I flail in lucid dream
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Is my march in the ranks of pharisees
who raise a fist in willful ignorance
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It never fails to raise the mercury,
these jagged barbs hurled by intolerance.
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I oftentimes resent the end of sleep,
for waking means the dreams come to an end.
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Each tender sole bears gaping wounds
(the fault of trusting jagged rock),
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A childish fancy, yet life's passageway,
this gate before me through which I must pass.
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Forgetting all supposed rationale,
I venture forth despite their shackling.
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Boreas and his stormy wrath
birth trepidation in this girl:
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Removed as seems I am from "sanity",
I struggle in apparent fruitless quest:
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Sudden, unrelenting pain means
groggy trek through hallways black,
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Without a voice you call my name,
o, curse your wretched hold on me!
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Contortions of this singer's lips,
a vision most hilarious!
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These whirling queries in my mind's recess
dance their chaotic waltz eternally.
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A fount, those lips of nectar vile,
its flow, a jagged razor blade
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Your mindless words, mere squawking in my ears,
dear scavenger of putrid carrion.
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