Old Pebbles

To the old pebbles locked up in the past beyond hope To them I say 'Be fresh with the airs and the spume of nights before the Dawn will walk on you with naked feet' You must then say 'Beauty be in us; treat us well' And Dawn surprised will walk to the light sands. to think and let thought roam not chaining it like a chained dog: but free to roam without a chain by neck or guided by the hand or other way: the beauty of the night inspires thus not more than Dawn and new day not more - not more - of many things in all my verses I Erect Poet Seer wrote and sung and chanted incantation-wise Of many Of many I desire to say off the mask of fear in the Sub-Conscious for in the Conscious masked fear hides herself so that you will not know whether it's all bluff or in part so or danger full: in the Sub-Conscious you will face fear and fear will face you naked to the blade and sheer and mere. thoughts roam roam and so wander at times cooing soft as pigeons in love; at other times as winter-swollen thunder thought roam roam and so wander the night his mantle vast opens to them for shelter. thoughts roam thoughts roam thoughts roam. verse thus let free from cages of rules terms and dogmas rolls on uncertain often but in rare moments such heights arises more than verse controlled! to you Muse there came I to your sacred alter by made my installment of scent and incense and all things holy then fell I before your altar that altar that also be the sepulcher of beauty buried though she living be: as ever - for in the beginning in one moment absolute particular we lived in it the first experiments and inside the small niche the first sweet praises cutting perhaps one link of oblivion's chain and making the Poet Seer more fervent in his pain. hear my Muse! hear my Muse these words a prayer too, albeit a song, and to your sacred soul an incantation. there was a dream whose fringes of pure gold but inside matter changes to poor cloth the youth in fringes inside there'd the old Sub-Conscious inside locked outside the beauty of youth old age to it be distant and repellent: there was a dream there was a dream turtles on whom Venus doted and laid her hands on them to caress and leave food the turtles now abandoned by their divine protectress now roam and wander all over the pebbles they sail falling and rising in a laugh and shock as by alternation