I know the dream Of the dead Greek gods. The mad, sick souls, cursed With eternal nightmare. Their incubus is this world. This crazy man-made world, -- 'Tis but the tortured memory Of crazy man-made gods. Oh, where is the cure For the pitiable gods? -- Since they and the world, Do not exist, nor ever did, Save as universal fungi, -- A growth of infinity. Now, on this evolutionary plant A modern mistletoe is grafted. We call it the "Zest for Life." |