I breathed enough to take the Trick —
And now, removed from Air —
I simulate the Breath, so well —
That One, to be quite sure —
The Lungs are stirless — must descend
Among the Cunning Cells —
And touch the Pantomine — Himself,
How numb, the Bellows feels!
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I have been to church, but no more. I must touch God Himself, but He is quiet, and I am often not interested or insufficient for the task.