889
Crisis is a Hair
Toward which the forces creep
Past which forces retrograde
If it come in sleep
To suspend the Breath
Is the most we can
Ignorant is it Life or d**h
Nicely balancing
Let an instant push
Or an Atom press
Or a Circle hesitate
In Circumference
It — may jolt the Hand
That adjusts the Hair
That secures Eternity
From presenting — Here