IT'S LIKE A FEVER

It's like a fever,
Saturday afternoon
To exploit all.
Through the threshold of hope
With no exit to run
Pile step on step
All staying young.

It's like a fever
Of contained design,
Expounding within the brain
To obtain -- to revive,
The hold on mankind,
The source -- the sound,
Of foreign matter.

It's like a fever
Of grace beheld
But never felt or hoped
To be seen again.
The elegance of void
In a sold form
Of the Orients' bold.

It's like a fever
Of knawing need,
With no relief,
And songs sung.
The taste of exploding communication
Found with laughter,
But mocked by the sick and dying.

It's like a fever
of life inhaled and
Found pounding in the brain.
The desent of pain,
Flavored by unknowing eyes
Questioning the hearts
Of old and those who know.

It's like a fever
To be softened by
Silent flowing rivers
And sitars and sleep,
That takes on new meaning,
To melt the mind,
To give peace to the soul,
The searching circle -
And a way for floating in the breeze.

It's like a fever,
The bustle of the masses
Stirs my heart to cry
Stop! Your moving to fast!
Give me breath
so that I may not miss
but may become one with all.

It's like a fever
Of the breast of the girl
Who wails at the rising moon,
Who sing songs of hope
And romance and past deeds unrewarded -
Victories left unwon.

It's like a fever
Of dancing drums
And gardens revealing
A beings' struggle,
the branch of growth
Pushing toward the setting sun.

Just say to me that you love me,
A thousand times and more,
and I will break through this fever,
This fever, that, for the moment -
Has possessed my soul.

ZCMI 9/67