My soul did cross your spirit

Amid the great crusade of youth,

To be entombed near it,

Behind the sealing stone of truth,

Renewed for forty years and forty dying,

With each kind compassion,

Recycling bloody claw and tooth,

My God I try to fashion

Around my beaten heart, uncouth

In blasphemy for you overlying,

Before you nothing craving,

And so for that remain a slave

With the nothing I am saving

Within the holey Kingdom of the Grave.



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