Totenkopf

Non-forfeiting my troth, in bonny and buxom, I believed. What good is too good? And why is better, better than worse? Given the first beginnings I merge intuition with silence, And form my own variant of “das Weltspiel”, as I deny The realm of Earth and Heaven, and the realm of God and Man. The progeny of thought, pliant but plum, with no falsity, Purified by a jaunt of far and beyond, thenceforth From a beginning to an end, shines in this darkness, So strenuous in the pleasures of conviction, Overwhelming and powerful, almost a daemonic proclivity Towards the duty to produce evil that destroys goodness. The unrest is raising to overthrow the slavery reigning in the heart, The slavery that is wearing the Totenkopf , so proud, and so it is! I want to stop the cant I hear. Full of devilish malignity, the cant Of a false scruple, in the world of no clear direction. How one achieves it, if good is too good? If better is better than worse! O, I have no predestined servility towards tolerance, And I will passion and protest and be protestingly passionate, In my own dimension of reality, frigidly judicious, as an old faith.