Addict's Cure
Where are you echo of my soul,
Whose heart I echo back?
This yearning I've been forcèd to control,
Lest through it I fall to the black
Gnawing of my lower will-
The beast that eats and hungers still.
But as I scratch my falt'ring words
(A trap for foolish men),
The monster scratches, whisp'ring to the birds,
My flitting flights of fancy- when
Stopped, I notice, realize,
The thing has eaten up my eyes.
The gaze that saw the sunset set
And saw the sunrise rise,
Now looks and sees mere atmosphere and wet
Field grass refracting sun to eyes.
Can I tame it yet again,
Or lose my place with honored men?
With iron nail I fix my hand,
And spike into my side.
The one to hold me up and make me stand,
The other there to purge my pride.
As I'm in imitation of
The cure for all, He cures my love.
