The crystal of reason
grows
down
into my loves and
terrors, halts
or muddles
flow,
casting me
to shine or break:
the savage peoples
wood slopes, shore rocks
with figures of dream
who struggle
to save or
have his life:
to keep the
life and
shape, to keep
the sphere, I hide
contours,
progressions between
turning lines,
toward the higher
reason
that contains the war
of shape and loss
at rest.
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