End of the Tunnel

by Jack D. Harvey

 

Let me say,
meine Herrschaften,
violence is attractive,
addictive, deceitful;
good and evil
are mixed in it.
The whorehouse brawl,
the extended feud between
the Western chief and
the Eastern chief;
thank God we all
once in a while
rouse ourselves
to be violent, get ugly,
yet we all know and fear
the heavy consequences;
blood killings,
the idle brutal death,
waking in the wrong bath;
a wife at her man's funeral,
her face black with grief,
her body's dews
remembering summer nights
and the moon,
blithe and mysterious,
rising and then setting;

love's sweet ways.

Life is a single talent
we all abuse, misuse, diffuse;
what is earthly bliss
in the earthly paradise?
The sweet violence,
the immense pleasure
of Adam and Eve,
like beasts of the field,
come to congress?
No man or woman,
knows fate or the
flaming bounds in this sport.

But that's not the switch,
eminent professors,
solemn philosophers,
that's not where
the goddess roves.

Beyond the limits of
Socrates, Mencius,
their ancient learning,
the magna mater, the great mother
bids us note that
no part
there is
of our bodies
not fit to be loved.

So love the noble whole,
highest to lowest,
nourish it, flourish with it,
live in harmony
with the heavenly court in you,
you will be complete,
you will know
what is supreme, what impure,
how to keep love alive,
how to crush your enemies,
how to endure
the ceaseless wasting away
and survive,
benevolent
and in grace,
undebased
and at peace.