Still Life

—i am the Greek,
Unfreezing sluices of laughter.
The deathward eyes of men I turn to seek A many-colored globe.
The suppliant knee Rises from penitence and goes after The trickle of unquenchable music.—
—When my enemies did me to death: I lay holden as a spark in flint-rock;
The fire sprang forth in his season: the Light of the World eastered to men.—
—My enemy put a wintry death Upon me, sealing the doors with cold.
The sacred seed slept sweet in earth Until the equinoctial day For the storming forth of the green.
I am continual rebirth Into ever-reflowering May.—
—My blood was shed: and after was a long shedding of blood for me unwilling;
I am the young whisper of flood in drought: I am the promise of life after death.—
—My spilt arterial blood (O pomegranate spurting!) Runs into the spongy ground;
The shrewd, inescapable knife Repeatedly plunged (recalling My sacrifice) for me indifferent.
Flower sprouting to noon,
Flower cut off and falling—
I abide by certain death after life.— —The word is the beginning in the end: my Treasure the only unfretted.
The lion, the vine, and the marble decay: only the ghost is everlasting.—
—I am bird,
I am fish,
I am lusty shoot,
The changeling flesh never lost.
Behind and beyond The shifty-mind fruit I am old water, old earth, old flame,
Now and forever the same.—