302

We bear the burden of impulse and fear,
twin burdens upon our heavy shoulders,
lightened only as our glory flies near
our heads in the wind as the flame smoulders:
Passion and craft are like berries and cream:
a paradox of light and heaviness
that makes new colors, bright as if in dream,
but soft and faded in its creaminess:
But the sea lies behind; the ocean roars
like a furnace of waves, churning out flames
of blue magic; each ripple jumps and pours
itself into itself. Eternal games:
The concept of truth is now so foreign;
to find it seems a most loathsome burden.

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