A Relic of Mind
A new strength unlike my old waning temper,
A splendorous godhead unlike an impassioned
Brute maimed, self-despairing, locked in the mire,
A new light in my departing twilight.
All is now a song of an unheard music,
An eternal note floating through the spheres
Of my upper mind; my mind an old relic
Still strangely fostered by streams of mechanical habits.
If at all a relic, a Spirit’s mighty ash it be,
For ever self-smeared on the forehead above the divine eye.