A rush of feelings unspoken, words unfelt:
In a daze of illusory righteousness,
It was your demons I fed, I adorned;
And mine with whom I went to bed.
What does a child know of (revered) sanity!
What do they care for childlike purity!?
I lose touch with my fabric of woven riddles,
I’d rather be naked than masked in disguise.
I’d rather be someone else for a moment,
Than to be me, and be full of lies.
The dance she MUST dance, to keep away from hell.
No disciples desired, no fame required;
Each time we would sit, Him we admired.
An intense whiteness , for what we aspired:
Nothing is mine, all is only acquired…
I am only to watch, being watched,
To recognize, this, and
To see my stance being played,
And being played well, indeed.
Master! Mercy! For your sake of God!..
This flower shows healing in her winter harvest;
Blossoms in a white, as liberated as Death.