Here— this tale, a gale, my Muse
composed; in rhythms of my soul— poems,
the swift-footed, from the wind, poured.
I tell of visions, of a Will beyond;
in ravishing verse, with tempo— fickle,
So bewitching, All by rapture struck.
Oasis, a grove, my Muse’s abode,
in a desert ere lone, apron-to— a barrow
whence the fire springs, a thrum of souls;
from the primal force, a soulful song,
Space is a kingdom-numb; female
and I king, uncontrolled, my soul’s flux;
transpiercing hums, a breath eternal.
Open—have the heart enthralled, take
this melody and beats flowing— brisk
warlike; the roaring drums— in this tale,
the throbbing of my heart, a dour sorrow—
to which God! may counterpoise and bless.