Beauty bites.
God, how beauty bites.

It sends a sane man crawling to the river,
Crying out in an ecstasy of agony
And of joy.

Like that of a blind dog,
His body knows not where it's headed,
But only that his soul is much too strong for his prisonous flesh to remain composed.

He cannot remain in meditation
Watching the play of his life.

But, also, like the mad, blind beast,
His heart and spirit,
His internal power
Sees.
It sees
And it knows
And it runs majestically toward the light,
Though others may see only the outward costume
Of the bitten dog gone insane
On this Earth.

This man people may look upon with disgust and confusion,
But it is to this man that
I bow.
It is this man who
I will be.