When he loses balance
Your consciousness is tired,
When the level of the ladder
Go away from under your feet,
the deck,
When I spit on humanity
Your night loneliness, —
You can
To think about eternity
And to doubt the integrity
ideas, hypotheses, perceptions
works of art,
And - by the way - very conception
Madonna son Jesus.
But it is better to worship the givens
With her deep grave,
which then,
the statute of limitations,
They seem so sweet.
Yes. It is better to worship the givens
With its short roads,
which then
strangely
seem to you
broad,
seem large,
dust,
studded with compromises,
Seem large wings,
It seems big birds.
Yes. It is better to worship the givens
The poor ee criteria,
which then,
on the extreme,
Will serve as a handrail for you,
(Although not particularly clean),
Holding in balance
Your lame truth
This chipped stairs.
