To Train You, and to Keep You Sane

To train you,

and to keep you sane,
those sentient aspects
of you which contain

your ecstasy concoct a sort

of lulling psychic serum
to inject into your vein
of Soul, the theorem
 
for which might be
worked out as follows:
that if you are the famished
thing which swallows

everything

it can,
but learns to be
a quiet man,

so nobody

will know,
your spirit can perceive
and freelybreathe and glow

in an unseen

eternity.

No rhyme

for that.








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