The Head was sovereign
though my heart did govern;
amputated limbs were but bewildered
from the wisps and whirlwinds
that did prevail. . .

Deprived of vision to see
fleshly ears, dry as leaves
were callused and cold
only being moved
by the manicured mouth
to which the knees do bend. . .

The Wind of the Word
tried often to speak
of Life and of love.

Unnerved the hands ruthlessly
sacrificed the Truth
with a dull wooden sword -
it's well used and bloody,
the merciless one. . .

My nose doth remain somewhat a curse
dwelling in the valley of dung
where my wild aimless legs
with no direction set forth
circle and rot herein. . .

Gnawing hunger worketh a thirst
my belly swollen with infirmity -
it's half eaten food
the limbs only reject.

Manna, now wasted with scours
pours out to poison all life
maddening the mind
and making all reasoning vain.

Suicide's a wind
ruthless and cruel
yet life lingers on
albeit pain. . .

Mirrors you know,
are a wretched device;
enlarging the image
then revealing it true. . .

But praise be
unto God -
I can still whistle
sheltered in song.

Explain this I could
but it's now much to late;
your curiosity now cured
with amused gossip
now relate.

Onlooking life forms
jeering with scorn and dismay
will initiate the logic
of euthanasia
soon one day! . .