Through jaded geomancy and blurred fantasy I perceive

Shapes broad and thin, sights bright and grim,

Approaching growth to gain but with the excitement I grieve,

My faith foolishly cast in the cold charms on heaven's brim.

Trust not and lust not by the dream of destiny filled,

Hold homely and dimly that small imp of crazed hope.

Render him, righteously, with your deep roots disabled,

Allow promise and regret above the warm grass to elope,

Diamonds, jades, and clovers are none but fabled.

But will your stance to wash upon the brown soil

With those searing steps and your thunderous spine;

Carry cold roots, because like braces they will coil,

Determine but gaze not, because there are grails filled with brine,

Then keep your pace steady, because not all that glimmers is divine.

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