To be ascetic—

[joel]

To be ascetic— oh, to simply be
and find austere not joy nor grief, not smile
nor tear, not triumph nor disparity—
pure life that affectations can’t defile:
I thought ascetic life was glory, while
quite frankly I had died. I simply died.
No thirst, no want, no weariness: no style
of inspiration, expiration cried,
“My God, my God!” And I was terrified:
my death came— and it hurt— and it oppressed
me— and I felt it— and it multiplied
with fright the words to be. And here possessed
with deadly fear was I alive with awe
that here was I my most— here razed, here raw.

[Arcadia]

hard work
(full of parámetros)
smile