A Ruthless Chair

If I sit alone with that…which does not shine.

The chair twists over.

Carefulness and intolerance.

Than become a seat that binds.

As ruthless as heaven above…

And, hell below.

There soon sits an awareness…

Pay no heed to an inner franchise.

Until I have learned all there is to know.imageedit_15_4802653979

 

Milton

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Seasons return, but not to me returns day,

or the sweet approach of even or morn,

or sight of vernal bloom, or summer’s rose,

or flock, or birds, or human face divine.

But cloud instead,

and ever-during dark

surrounds me,

from the cheerful ways of men.

Cut off,

and for the book of knowledge fair

presented with a universal blank.

Of nature’s works to me expunged and razed,

and wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.