Competition Year: 2013
Votes (0) | Comments (2)
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The cleft of what our flesh and mind's eyes see,
And bow, submit to nature's tutelage,
Know now she no such splendor guarantees.
For he who saw the occultation end,
The bear return from Annwyn, did not bow,
Who saw his piece arcane, did not pretend,
The earthen truth is sparsely gilded now.
What left have we to love to court delight,
When comfort and warm notion truth redacts?
A beauty that cannot command the sight.
A beauty that the worm will hold intact.