XIV
Yet all the comedy was tragedy.
I truly felt all that I farced to feel.
Because the wheel revolves, forsooth, shall we
Deny a top and bottom to the wheel?
I am the centre too, and stand apart.
I am the All, who made the All, in All
Who am, being Naught. I am the bloodbright Heart.
Wreathed with the Snake, and chaos is their pall
Thou art as I; this mystery is ours.
These blood-bought bastards of futility
Can never know us, fair and free-born flowers.
So they may say—they will—of you and me:
"These poets never know green cheese from chalk:
"This is the sort of nonsense lovers talk."
I truly felt all that I farced to feel.
Because the wheel revolves, forsooth, shall we
Deny a top and bottom to the wheel?
I am the centre too, and stand apart.
I am the All, who made the All, in All
Who am, being Naught. I am the bloodbright Heart.
Wreathed with the Snake, and chaos is their pall
Thou art as I; this mystery is ours.
These blood-bought bastards of futility
Can never know us, fair and free-born flowers.
So they may say—they will—of you and me:
"These poets never know green cheese from chalk:
"This is the sort of nonsense lovers talk."
— 114 —
