One thing remaining, infallible, would be Enough. - Wallace Stevens

That's what misery is, Nothing to have at heart. It is to have or nothing.<p>It is a thing to have, A lion, an ox in his breast, To feel it breathing there.<p>Corazon, stout dog, Young ox, bow-legged bear, He tastes its blood, not spit.<p>He is like a man In the body of a violent beast. Its muscles are his own...<p>The lion sleeps in the sun. Its nose is on its paws. It can kill a man.

It is the sun that shares our works. The moon shares nothing. It is a sea. When shall I come to say of the sun, It is a sea; it shares nothing; The sun no longer shares our works And the earth is alive with creeping men, Mechanical beetles never quite warm? And shall I then stand in the sun, as now I stand in the moon, and call it good, The immaculate, the merciful good, Detached from us, from things as they are? Not to be part of the sun? To stand Remote and call it merciful? The strings are cold on the blue guitar.

This is old song That will not declare itself...