If the mind is the sword that stabs
The heart and the heart is bleeding
In the art and the woman is bleeding
In the night where her love is as sweet
As a book in a boat on the hissing sea
Then could the bad that crosses the good
In her book be the quotient of all the good
And bad in the world but also especially
All the good and bad in any Good
Book and the least good book of all worlds?
And if that could be then could the light that flares
Whenever with a full heart you open the ark
Where all your promises are burning
To death and kept be the selfsame light of all things?