For the Old Gnostics
The Fathers put their trust
in the end of the world
And they were wrong.
The Gnostics were right and not right.
Dragons copulate with their knobby tails.
Some somnolent wealth rises unconcerned,
Over there! In the world!
Ponderous stubborn
Sorrow weighs down the flying Gospels.
Some enormous obstacle blocks our way.
The untempered soul grumbles
in empty light.
Robert Bly
Posted over on Poetry Foundation
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