1

The moon slips in and out of my consciousness

Like a truant boy fleeing his master's cane.

And there are marked the glimmering sparks of the huge spaciousness-

Moulded with my state of existence in utter disdain.

A dislodged pebble in the boot;

And in that speck of matter has played out the tale,

Tragedy and Comedy and Romance took root-

As the mind escaped the mortal coils and their bind, so pale!

Tired and coiled the mortal clay is bound and chained:

But the mind is the master of the slave, bind less and bridle less;

An animal of its own heart which every height has gained.

For it can look upon the vastness and the singularity thoughtless

For it is bereft of terror and awe in an attention timeless

For the endless, but is the image beloved and that its chain