"FROM WISDOM III
Scents, colors, laws, systems!
Frightened hens, these words.
The Flesh that sobs upon the cross.
Foot, it is a dream you tread upon.
Everywhere, the screen of the voice,
the tempting voice of the crowds.
Burnished skies where our plans
float, flowers that are not the Chalice,
wine and your insinuating gesture, woman,
and the glance of your breasts, feline night
of fragrant pillows,
what is this delight,
what is this torment,
we, the damned, and you, the Saints?"
Created by d'Araprì