The ancients of yore
well knew, often said,
gold has no more worth
than stone, stone no less
than gold. So doth earth
speak her goldstone lore.
The uprights have made
their nest, now they lie
in me . . . I need them
not in the least, though
they need me for all.
I depend on them
for nothing, while they
take from me what they
require . . . and then some.
Has their brain grown too
big for their bodies?
They have worked it out
that they arose from
the great apes, and yet
more seems the pity.
Still, I do love them . . .
to the very end
of time, here in me.
With or without them,
I must confess it . . .
afore them I knew
only the timeless
bliss, Lord Now’s goldstone.
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