Elidius laughs, ecstatic, flame, joy fuelled
who has known the inverse of bright being,
wandering it in intimate exploration,
patient with the blockage. Like a trapped fly;
and as ceaseless, always, having escaped.
He burns on the heights of the inner head.
In a cavernous undercroft beneath him,
he mourns; and is cursed; and is failing,
falling in hate reinforcing itself,
as does a fire when ash accumulates.
There is no doubt that he is free of men;
but he is doubtless cut off the same,
the whole race, herding, such as is here,
keeping him back by simple derision.
-----
Lawrence Upton
Visiting Fellow, Music Dept,
Goldsmiths, University of London
New Cross, London SE14 6NW
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