Contemptus Mundi

The summit speaks of solitude and ice

But O, what air! These crystal spirits bite

The soul, and gift mind's eye the clearest sight

Of valley life beneath, its ev'ry vice

And shame displayed. No more will dark suffice

To teach, or clarify the mind now white

Deep shrouds the land; for I have seen the light

And now no more will souls beneath entice.

In summers past I walked the southern way

Down idle paths of burning coals; I sought

The warmth, but felt the fire, for in that hell

I sold my soul for mess. I cannot say

Where Eden lies, yet here is where I wrought

My soul, at peace before the final bell.