An obscure puppetry operates
From above to below against
The weight of bodies holding it down
An upright line passing through
A vast and misty crossing ground
Where breath and blood are lodged
Where aimless thought and careless desire
Are cycled through the furnace heart
Reduced to ash or polished to glass
Or usually some of both
If you think of the earth as a shrinking head
And the moon as its phantom limbs
You can get a sense of the scale
When the heart embraces the sun
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