The Renouncing Of The Grave

Spoke and paced the Monsignor As he paced he spoke As he spoke he paced There was Thought too to him To his Mind-Brain Fortress for resolving balanced things For to renounce to the grave And Not to renounce to the grave be Balanced so. Bring me Bring me some Occam's Razor to decide I shall give judgement But you appeal, if so you will. The parcel in the cold trembles, trembles Blue Violet-blue in its lips. And I shall give you appeal after appeal Appeal from appeal: There shall be no limit, ' I decreed. There was an Apostle running Running from the grave And he said: Immortality! There be Immortality! At first a flame But now in execution glows! But as with all joys Problem brings: To decide whether to renounce the grave or not Said the Monsignor: ‘In the grave too it be preferable You will lose none, have none, Be none but dust and bones Feeblest yet from Problems freest.' Then rose the Poet-Seer-Philosopher And said: My Monsignor, pray, more deliberate. For Immortality too in the longer term Will too be prone-propense to melt problems' That, too, why be and continue Immortality