Your rights reach down where all owners meet, in Hell's Pointed exclusive conclave, at earth’s centre (Your spun farm's root still on that axis dwells); And up, through galaxies, a growing sector.
Law makes long spokes of the short stakes of men.
Twixt devil and deep sea, man hacks his caves; Birth, death; one, many; what is true, and seems; Earth's vast hot iron, cold space's empty waves.
It is the pain, it is the pain, endures. Your chemic beauty burned my muscles through. Poise of my hands reminded me of yours.
Ripeness is all; her in her cooling planet Revere; do not presume to think her wasted. Project her no projectile, plan nor man it; Gods cool in turn, by the sun long outlasted.
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Being everything, let us admit that is to be something, </br> Or give ourselves the benefit of the doubt; </br> Let us offer our pinch of dust all to this God, </br> And grant his reign over the entire building.
Attending there let us absorb the cultures of nations </br> And dissolve into our judgement all their codes. </br> Then, being clogged with a natural hesitation </br> (People are continually asking one the way out), </br> Let us stand here and admit that we have no road.
There is a supreme God in the ethnological section; ... </br> His smooth wood creeps with all the creeds of the world.
Feign then what's by a decent tact believed And act that state is only so conceived, And build an edifice of form For house where phantoms may keep warm.
All those large dreams by which men long live well Are magic-lanterned on the smoke of hell.
Man, as the prying housemaid of the soul.
An ambiguity, in ordinary speech, means something very pronounced, and as a rule witty or deceitful....any verbal nuance, however slight, which gives room for alternative reactions to the same piece of language.