How do I write the obituary
Of the mildly comic face of pride.
My own face of achievement
And the bereavement of balance.
Pride so much more complex and yet
So much more schematic than the other sins.
Less horror show and thundering
More a quiet isolation.
To live with Zarathustra
Is to share his fate,
To live as Zeus is
To share the ice in his veins.
To live as God
Is to lose the clarity of the world.
To float in a nondifferentiated haze
Aloof, separate and always disenchanted.
