Like a swimmer driven by a whirlpool of distress,
Like a  morsel of hope, lampooned by regret,
In a storm of my own making; beseiged by days; 
Adamantly anchored to a despair, twenty fathoms wide
I'm riven by the whirlwind of what I can not hide
Alone, my anchor is the live-long day and yet, and yet, I fade away. 
Dressed in a black haze: where dappled sunlight sways;
There's an abyss in the darkness before me, terrible cliffs.
Mountains of the mind with sides:sheer, steep, sublime.
I grumble like a peasant offered scant discouragement 
Discouraged, I'm invisible, to be seen is bad for me, I flee;
Providence provides the tunnels, the cliff edge, whirling water.
Roaring shafts of sunlight disturb not my sleep.
Again, I dress like a madman, this refrain is deep,
In an abyss of darkness, I sleep, in a paradise  of sorts....
My peacock angel delight, an unacknowledged thought::
I ought to know why I cry, when I see or hear beauty.