from Heart of Love

Unaided in the lofty mount
of blest imagination's place
before the arras wove the clock
to knit our substance fixed in space,
our unformed essence yet he loved,
time's corridors he routed there
towards the fount, Unbridled Love:
unmade, with anchored hand he traced
the windswept spirit soon to dock
within his arms: and so he moved
to sell himself, fate was a loan
downpaid, a dowry of his own.

Illumined satellites he flung
about our tears, to guide us home
condens├ęd down time's fabric dark
cut from the shimm'ring bark of years!
There, as a zoetrope was hurled
mixed with the bitter grape of time
election's fancy sparkling, 'mid
dark chaos, in whose tent we shine
an heliotrope whirled in the hand,
glitt'ring as shafts through winter's reach;
'beneath the frost, beneath the pine
to heaven boasting, thou art mine!'

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