I have said that the soul is not more than the body
And I have said that the body is not more than the soul
And nothing, not god, is greater than one’s own self is
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud….
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
The last scud of the day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow’d wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre to your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
