THE ETERNAL SELF
I, so old
To be so young,
To see the what
That sages saw,
And into this stream
With my spinnaker breast
Leading my see,
I was entered upon in an
Ebb and flow,
Emerald and gold,
By a silent song.
Good God a mouth is formed!
That sung of me
In numerous chants,
Squashing my ant,
Splitting my fear,
Emitting one ear
That heard my dawn,
Through vast naked pours
Of rich fallowed nights,
That grew up my race,
To trample out lies.
Thus one eye was born.
To see myself,
To myself,
In one glimpse,
Eternally now.
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