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Portrait of the Artist as a Lone Tree

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Beast nature

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If I had the power
to make the stars come down,
and make the haunted people gather round -
what would I do, what would it mean?

If I fly with fire,
and cover you with fear,
and over all that cringe on earth below,
aspire to rule, what is my name?

These things seem easy games -
to burn the earth with flames,
and take immortal names -
but what would I become?

For power desires the heart;
I offer it in part;
but that is just the start;
it wants it all complete.

In owning all, be owned;
in breaking all, be broken;
in self, become a token;
in killing all, be cloned.

For power is not a friend
to those who have no heart -
who lost it at the start,
or lose it in the end.

It makes of them a tool,
that use it as they will;
and so I suffer still,
refusing to be cruel.

In weakness is your power,
that knows no fire or heat;
a life in love complete,
that self cannot devour.

Contents Page 92About

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