Half The World Is Composed

He Thought That I Was After Him For A Feather--- The White One In His Tail: Like One Who Takes Everything Said As Personal To Himself.

One Of The Lies Would Make It Out That Nothing Ever Presents Itself Before Us Twice. Where Would We Be At Last If That Were So? Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.

Like A Piece Of Ice On A Hot Stove The Poem Must Ride On Its Own Melting.

What Is This Talked-of Mystery Of Birth. But Being Mounted Bareback On The Earth?

What Is Required Is Sight And Insight- Then You Might Add One More: Excite.