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THIS FLESH, by                    
First Line: Inoculate with immortality
Last Line: Our heaven or fantastically near it.
Subject(s): Immortality


Inoculate with Immortality
This Flesh: Nay drug it with oblivion.
It is too fabulously frail to be
The vessel to hold heat like any sun:
And all its wanton flame is spilled too soon
To number it among the minor stars:
Nor has it beauty dead unlike the moon.
It is no better than a log that chars
Blackened and brittle into cold decay.
And yet beloved it has housed your heart
And mine: become our shelter for a day:
Our habitation: Something set apart;
Hollow but hallowed with a gleam of spirit:
Our Heaven or fantastically near it.





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