The place where my lungs sustain me Is hollow; Air collapses in my empty core. Two dark wings and the things that scare me Battle out in a full-fledged war. I thought myself a poet Or perhaps a mystery; I saw myself excite the senses, Part the hungry, frothing sea; Breathe my life into a statue, Draw the homesick swallow home, Part the rain and the mist from nature Rule them- Claim them for my own. I discovered, in my youngest days, Without joy, the heart cannot exist. And dismay rained down, as I revelled in truth: I must be broken to be fixed.