Sonnet II

I've seen men fashioned from wire, snow, or clay,
And even straw cinched tight, or sheets of tin
That would wave some disintegration in
Like heaven condemned and burned by venomous day.
If men were men instead of messengers,
Who would fain carry but themselves and not
The aimless parcels no one ever sought
Who pour canals upon their passengers,
Then we should both become the greatness that
The firmament we bear possesses by the might
Of its forked lightning. Ever since begat,
Along with her lord Chaos, empress Night
Our parents' courses, swollen, flowing fat,
The lies of paths have well remained in sight.