8o
KONX OM PAX
0 fool!
not thus the Intimate
Gives up its secret to the soul.
Truth flies beyond, inviolate,
And slips beside the glancing
goal.
Who probes the body gains a fact,
Yet leaves an equal fact behind;
So gathering
for the cataract
Roll up the rapid waves of mind.
Swift as the light at last they leap
Into the chasm of despair;
Of all their freshet force they keep
But froth and smoke and empty air.
0 fool! to deem dissection
truth
And paint and patches but a blind!
The enthusiasm of a youth
Is worth the sage and cynic mind.
0 Buddha! couldst thou nowhere rest
A pivot for the universe?
Must all things be alike confessed
Mere changes rung upon a curse?
I swear by all the bliss of blue
My Phryne with her powder on
Is just as false—and just as true—
As your disgusting
skeleton.
Each to his taste:
if you prefer
This loathly brooding
on Decay,
I call it Growth,
and lovelier
Than all the glamours of the day.