Indications of a Love Supreme

HI

The soul exists like a hard and cold
Wax imprint of our faith,
Which bares the changing mold
Of seasons and designs, until the mind
Effaces into varying degrees and shapes
Of satyrs or sublime supremacies
The blushes of our times’ disease.

EGO

The flame of my embraces is a whisper
Like the sound of thought, a temper
Of trembling faces by the grace
Of constant metamorphoses expressing
The beauty of a few laces flickering
Like streams of flame in the smoking breeze.
My ardor shapes me, true –
But I wear the searing shapes more truely
As the flame, translucent of my rainbow being.