Transitional Poem
41
I'd have stripped off my skin toThe impacts of hate and love—Rebel alone because ICould not be slave enough.
Bodies now, not shadows,Intercept the sun:It takes no rod to tell meThat discipline's begun.Seeking the fabled fusionFrom love's last chemical,I found the experimentMakes monads of us all;
For love still keeps apart,And all its vanitiesBut emphasise higher heaven,As February treesWhen rooks begin their noisyCoronation of the woodAre turreted with follyYet grow toward some good.
I thought, since love can harnessPole with contrary pole,It must be earthed in darknessDeeper than mine or mole.
