If life made
inroads into faces
the way it runs
its highways into dreams,
the curving
lines of their strange graces
would alter
utterly what each soul seems
to be
into
a blinking new
reality:
a view
through which
what so far only limps
toward the Beyond
might glimpse
its thinking Dawn
and drink it
deep
and make it
inner.
And sleep
with it, and be its dinner..
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