In the thought of the marrows

“GOD guard me from those thoughts men think
In the mind alone;
He that sings a lasting song
Thinks in a marrow-bone;” – from A Prayer For Old Age – Poem by William Butler Yeats, 1935.

The completeness of being happy

did not have a supporting chance.

I dissected my anatomy

that the effort itself would be a merit,

in clarity

that this merit would give me favor,

though it is not certain from where,

over the simple

(with easier and more obvious indulgences).

Each thought could not contain itself,

though it could.

I was not an individual,

though I would.

I did not stand.

But assumption made each thought thicker.

So what was self was a dependence on selves

that could only hobble with conflicting histories.

I could not see in a marrow what I desire

if I could not see in the marrow

the completeness of the provision.

As if that thought was complete.

If others were to provide to me,

I could be master.

If I were to provide,

I could be slave.

The completeness of happiness

Was the tug of war

Of the composition of bodies

Choosing slaves;

Over the simple

(with easier and more obvious indulgences).

In clarity,

The merit was in

Not in the dissection,

But the mystery of the union of selves,

The uniting of anatomy,

So I could stand,

in the thought of the marrows.

Photo from Baton Rouge, LA.