Inconstancy breeds in our bones
fed by our belief in the secret
warfare of cells. The public and
the private man fuse while the
dreaming and the waking man
find themselves, uprooted,
castrated, disembodied.
Clear nights and winking inlets,
gifts surrendered at our feet
contrive to resurrect us,
return from exile the dreaming
and the waking man, dictating
where the throne and where the
galley lies. But deception does not
find us immunized by memory
of the fall. Pretty eyes come darkly
flashing, challenging us to health
and long life. Guard against this,
my brothers.