Mythology, Philosophy of Art, poetry

A Scale


You can feel the moment when you leave

The scale and

you jumped for joy and you denied the gods their


You can fool them once

Perhaps even twice

But you must decide

If you are a man or if want to

Fraternize with mice

You refuse to notice the bloody

sound that issues forth from

Deep under ground

And you know

Oh you know

The blessed grass will

break your fall

Before the earth can consume you

Through and through

Echo the pall that you can smell at dawn

Taste the sunrise and demand another


Spiritual men will always take your coin

But the only holy beggar you can trust

is the boatman

Water still until

The currency of mortality is spent


Feel the lowly stain of your birth

And wash yourself with a moon baked jug

Of Iberian wine

You are clean

You are clean

But now you smell of grapes



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