DEATH IS NOT EVIL, EVIL IS MECHANICAL
ONLY the human being, absolved from kissing and
strife
goes on and
on and on, without wandering
fixed upon the hub of the ego
going, yet never wandering,
fixed, yet in motion,
the kind of hell that is real, grey and
awful
sinless and
stainless going round and round
the kind of hell grey Dante never
saw
but of which he
had a bit inside him.
Know thyself, and that thou art mortal.
But know thyself, denying that
thou art mortal:
a
thing of kisses and strife
a lit-up shaft of rain
a calling column of
blood
a rose tree
bronzey with thorns
a mixture of yea and nay
a rainbow of love and hate
a wind that blows back and
forth
a creature of
conflict, like a cataract:
know thyself, in denial of all these
things.
And thou shalt begin to spin round on the hub of the
obscene ego
a grey
void thing that goes without wandering
a machine that in itself is nothing
a centre of the evil
world.