MDDM Ch 75: the Daily Harvest

[Bandwraith at aol.com]

"...'Are you quite sure, now,' the Personage ask'd me
at last, 'that you wish to bet ev'rything upon the Body?-
*this* Body?- moreover, to rely helplessly upon the
Daily Harvest your sensorium brings in,- keeping in
mind that both will decline, the one in Health as the
other in Variety, growing less trustworthy till at last
they are no more?'..." [742.11]

cf., p.42-3, Final Harvest- Emily Dickenson's Poems
[Little, Brown & Company, 1961,]

                               I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
                                And Mourners to and fro
                                Kept treading--treading--till it seemed
                                That Sense was breaking through-- 

                                And when they all were seated,
                                A Service, like a Drum-- 
                                Kept beating--beating--till I thought
                                My Mind was going numb-- 

                                And then I heard them lift a Box
                                And creak across my Soul
                                With those same Boots of Lead, again,
                                Then Space--began to toll,

                                As all the Heavens were a Bell,
                                And Being, but an Ear,
                                And I, and Silence, some strange Race
                                Wrecked, solitary, here--

                                And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
                                And I dropped down, and down-- 
                                And hit a World, at every plunge,
                                And Finished knowing--then--


regards