Legend

As silent as a mirror is

Realities plunge in silence by . . .

I am not ready for repentance;

Nor to match regrets.  For the

Bends no more than the

Imploring flame.  And

In the white falling

Kisses are,—The only worth all granting.

It is to be learned—This cleaving and this burning,

But only by the one who Spends out himself again.

Twice and twice(Again the smoking souvenir,

Bleeding eidolon!) and yet again.

Until the bright logic is

Unwhispering as a

Is believed.

Then, drop by caustic drop, a perfect

Shall string some constant harmony,—Relentless caper for all those who

The legend of their youth into the noon.