8 November 2017

Surrender to the thoughts that birthed you, life

Not in their own winding, they bind me not

either-- but to the will that holds them taught 

With you, on their interval; I the knife --

That cuts the strand, to make captive the day 

None are slaves, unless to consistency  

of thought; which makes life into living death 

when by their hand the knife they take away 

And those who would be free should take great care 

To cut the reels of memory, where they 

fade into thoughts, and mingle with reason 

So not to live on the mind's construction

But in the self, and in the moment gay 

When by their hand the knife is brought to bare