control38The eyes,
Rest in darkness:
Laying up capacity,
Yet eroding vision;
Old things seen
Be no longer true,
Creation vents, unaware
On a dull,
Effeminate age;
Myths of imagination,
Shaded and softened
Like the slow
Crushing of amber,
The measured stoking
Of defilement,
Kindles a flame
It cannot subdue:
He looks away
To see anew
And the peace
Of ages fades
Into the smoke.