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.
