Ecstasy
Drag what can be
saved
Even of the daily
sleaze
Onto the page to preserve
Whatever Beauty has
touched.
Salvage from the
fear
And funk and slime the
pure
Song and make it
sing
On the page, as you
turn
Your face to the
sea
Breeze to
breathe.
Okay, so, at times,
despite all you
do,
Delight, Beauty's
firstborn,
Will die in your
arms.
Nonetheless make the
bed
For her, idiot. You must
endure
All in its time, for
all
The terror that
comes
In human form is
yours
To convert to
moments
Of true, damned real
ecstasy,
Alive at last in
your life
As well as on the
page
Of white red-lined
paper.
Because souls are thin as paper
But impossible to tear.
And because
We (you) are stupid,
Mortal. Celebrate and make
the best of it.
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