Yes, but is it true? You have your figures,
Marking the planes of existence, numbers
And the comparison of numbers
In harmony on either side, symbols’
Meaning shrouded and shrouding
That speak to the mystery -- of what?
That this paper too partakes of that everywhere
Which everything partakes, united in the substance
Expressed in every word and the motion of fingers,
Slithering out of and into the mind again, sweet luscious
With associations, filling rich itself like a soil
From which it grows? We are hungry men
Who wanted our filling and fill -- to fill --
We are horny men (and let us not ask, for a moment,
What it was that we would fill!) fashioning
Images of ourselves in all that we perceive, and how could we
Otherwise, salacious? So the world becomes our will,
And in the great poetry of man, we lose our truth.
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