Back into the asylum,
or
Transfer to something inside you,
A look at life,
Where you took it,
What it made you,
What you made it
Make you.
So each fault works itself
Back upon us,
And steals in through
"The eye of vision,"
Like how one spirit cast
Out will bring back
seven more.
Just unload from the
Well of one flaw,
And you will find seven
More wells.
Well, well, I wax philosophic
And define the mind
That hides from
Heaven's eyes.
Inside, the child is there
Who cannot change,
But cowers until the results
Of his ways kill him.
--If only a piece at a time,
Until the time is up.
Parole or graduation.
---2---
Flaws are the grapes
Of the spirit's wine.
They must be trodden
And pressed,
And rot for a time,
To change and ferment
Into ecstatic drink.
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