Before you thought of learning


Before he comes we weigh the Love!
‘Tis our soul that was bourne here
Prevailing biology with spirit’s nuance
The weight of our evolving spark

Be mine the doom of allotted tragedy
Sufficient comfort for our little gains
And rewards for our brief trust
To perish is never the end

We are stewards banished
In the odors & geometry of experience
Who is to say what is bad or good
Before our life is spent in

Forced flame or sweet impotence
Before spring surprises in her suddenness
Let us flow with independent hues
To discern the Beloved’s intervals
The superior joys of the serapheric self.

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