For one throb of the Artery,
While on that old grey stone I sat
Under the old wind-broken tree,
I knew that One is animate
Mankind inanimate fantasy.
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For one throb of the Artery,
While on that old grey stone I sat
Under the old wind-broken tree,
I knew that One is animate
Mankind inanimate fantasy.
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Comments1Wow, this poem really makes you think. It's a bit confusing though. Are we meant to see mankind as not real, just a figment of our imagination? Or am I totally off the mark here? Can anyone shed some light?