[BNP/E3, 49A3 – 9]

18-7-12.

O to be idle loving[1] idleness!

But I am idle all in hate of me…

Ever in action's dream, in the |false|[2] stress

Of purposed action never act to be.

_______

Like a fierce thing in its own lair,[3]

My will to act pens with excess my action,

Not-acting coils the thought with raged despair,

And acting rage |doth| |paint| despair distraction.

Like someone sinking in a treacherous sand.

Each gesture to deliver sinks the more

The struggle avails not, yet to raise no hand

Lies not upon despair’s distracted power.

Makes but death {…} slaver

[9v]

So reach I that grand point of {…} † fill

When to do nought is still to make me ill.

__________

|So live ever life unlived, aye[4]

Repurposed for to-morrow from to-day|

 
[1] loving /and love\
[2] |false| /worn\
[3] Like a fierce thing /beast chance-caged\ in its own lair, /Like some beast by chance self-caged in its lair\
[4] ever life unlived, aye /ever do I live a dead life, aye\