Individual Sovereign Will

Said the Individual Sovereign Will: give me more space not freedom just for freedom just not necessarily more power yields State must be smaller, Individual Sovereign Will greater. The glass of the Individual Sovereign Level must rise in level in as direct proportion to the lowering of liquid in the glass of the State. Hear, my Monsignor, this must be clear: Centuries that come are shrouded with all this. When time comes All one needs is to take off the shroud. waters cunning they sing prophet-like these crystalline clear prophets they sing Let the Individual grow and in as direct proportion the State decrease. The Trumpet rose and said: 'Make the Individual Sovereign Will more and more protagonist: that be the mechanics' Chanson, cantilena, chant in repetition the sweet notes burst come to fruition. La, la, la, la, la. The waters dance For history they see writ evolving day by day though I see not So tiny It be imperceptible for me drowsing into the indifference of prejudice and habit. La, la, la, la, la. Verse wants fashion Aslovely women: But no, So women are modest And Being child-bearing and More They ring all sacred. La, la, la, la, la. Come! Bring the russet breasted bird And the mixed white and blue Of another bird A yellow-green bird mixed with Darkened plumes. For green be the waters Eddying For sacred be the waters After the sprinkling: From humble language Sweeter it became Evolved To lingua franca. It was not afraid to move, Nay, So determined. La, la, la, la, la. Bring me the mood of singing hear the hiss of alliterations and the sweet tunes of repetitions bring me bring me the waters that darkened yesterday have cut their chains and smile and shine early. la, la, la, la, la. bring me in the mood let thinking accompany the lyre and every word to whet or stream of words with candied desire give me bring me. the water-wall was huge that Moses sprung when the seas opened: so word by word grows the stealth of verse and verse song, chanson, incantation. beneath the phantom lights and the weak moon there silhouetted against the dark there lay tombs graves and coffins all bristling with the skeletons' rattling. O come away! O come away! The moon and most of stars behind a posse of clouds be hiding. there was a Figure - colorless except black in the dark setting with its head in its hands bending. Of life the Figure thought and how we strive and puff every day by day and then be dust? Of these it thought and meditated? Of the goods that we 'own' by the 'laws' and that we be in separation at our fading? Of how there was on Earth A man who strove for Immortality but oblivion cut him? Or else? Whatever it thought the Figure bending through most of night it stood motionless save for the Dawn and vanishing. la, la, la, la, la. through the arrows of light from the distant burning stars and the weak moon there were particles to-night ah! Earth's rotating! Yet with her rotate so many that on the thought's spur I forgot: I looked at the wide heavens immense and asked myself: How long this thought and thought? How long? How long? through the arrows of light from the distant burning stars and the weak moon there were particles to-night