This Wild Swan Of A World Is

Imagination, The Traitor Of The Mind, Has Taken My Solitude And Slain It.

I've Changed My Ways A Little, I Cannot Now Run With You In The Evenings Along The Shore, Except In A Kind Of Dream, And You, If You Dream A Moment, You See Me There.

Know That However Ugly The Parts Appear The Whole Remains Beautiful... ... The Wholeness Of Life And Things, The Divine Beauty Of The Universe. Love That, Not Man Apart From That, Or Else You Will Share Man's Pitiful Confusions, Or Drown In Despair When His Days Darken.

The Tides Are In Our Veins.

Poetry Is Not A Civilizer, Rather The Reverse, For Great Poetry Appeals To The Most Primitive Instincts.