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It is important to begin when everything is already over… There were worse jokes his blood might have played on him. Its message might have read: All beginnings imply an apocalypse… He awoke the next morning tangled in first lines like wrinkled sheets.
“Thy gracious ways,
O Lady of my heart, have
O’er all my thought their golden glamour cast;
As amber torch-flames, where strange men-at-arms
Tread softly ‘neath the damask shield of night,
Rise from the flowing steel in part reflected,
So on my mailed thought that with thee goeth,
Though dark the way, a golden glamour falleth.”
Ezra Pound | “Canzon: Of Incense”