Who do not care
About the Northern Star
And the laws of its celestial whirl
Like a boy’s hair in its capacious whorl.
How great are the deeds
In the mitochondria of reeds.
Their vision blurs, their hearing lapses.
And the throne on which they sit collapses.
In place of these raptured ecstatics
Arrive the neutered
Who wrong this world with their pursuit
Of its permitted fruit.
But those who rightly feed the body
Who guide the stream
That roars to fill the wadi
Who gaze upon the quantum and the quark
Upon the earthworm and the orc,
Because they gaze upon the soul
They bring the word of God into the bowl
God has touched the army of their hearts
So they restore the ruins and pathways with their arts.