Born from the nucleus, dreamed to be bigger,
Heart is for pumping and brain is for illusions.
Living in illusions, breathing out of time;
I am dead alive hardly know the meaning of life. ...
Within the pale blue haze above,
Some pitchy shreds took size and form,
And, like a madman's wrath or love,
From nothing rose a sudden storm.
The blossom'd limes, which seem'd to exhale
Her breath, were swept with one strong sweep,
And up the dusty road the hail
Came like a flock of hasty sheep,
... Read complete poem