THEY are afraid of climbing down from this idiotic
tin-pot
heaven of
ours
because they
don’t know what they’ll find when they do get
down.
They needn’t bother, most of them will never get down at
all,
they’ve got to
stay up.
And those
that do descend have got to suffer a sense-change
into something new and
strange.
Become aware as leaves are aware
and fine as flowers are
fine
and fierce as
fire is fierce
and
subtle, silvery, tinkling and rippling
as rain-water
and still a man,
but a man re-born from the rigidity of fixed
ideas
resurrected
from the death of mechanical motion and emotion.