Now if you want my theories I go on. You do? All right. What was this Elenor Murray? She was the lover, do you understand? She had her lovers maybe, I don't know, That's not the point with lovers, any more, Than it's the point to have pianos--no! Lovers, pianos are the self-same thing; Instruments for the soul, the source of fire, The crucible for flames that turn from red To blue, then white, then fierce transparencies. Then if the lover be not known by lovers How is she known? Why think of Elenor Murray, Who tries all things and educates herself, Goes traveling, would sing and play, becomes A member of a church with ritual, music, Incense and color, things that steal the senses, And bring oblivion. Don't you see the girl Moving her soul to find her soul, and passing Through loves and hatreds, seeking everywhere Herself she loved, in others, agonizing For hate of father, so they tell me now? But first because she hated in herself What lineaments of her father she saw in self. And all the while, I think, she strove to conquer This hatred, every hatred, sensing freedom For her own soul through liberating self From hatreds. So, you see how someone near, Repugnant, disesteemed, may furnish strength And vision, too, by gazing on that one From day to day, not to be like that one: And so our hatreds help us, those we hate Become our saviors. Here's the problem now In finding self, the soul--it's with ourselves, Within ourselves throughout the ticklish quest From first to last, and lovers and pianos Are instruments of salvation, yet they take The self but to the self, and say now find, Explore and know. And then, as all before, The problem is how much of mind to use, How much of instinct, phototropic sense, That turns instinctively to light--green worms More plant than animal are eyes all over Because their bodies know the light, no eyes Where sight is centralized. I've found it now: What is the intellect but eyes, where sight Is gathered in two spheres? The more they're used The darker is the body of the soul. Now to digress, that's why the Germans lost, They used the intellect too much; they took The sea of life and tried to dam it in, Or use it for canals or water power, Or make a card-case system of it, maybe, To keep collectors off, have all run smoothly, And make a sure thing of it.