Sensual Idiot

If you don't know the kind of person I am and I don't know the kind of person you are a pattern that others made may prevail in the           world and following the wrong god home we may miss           our star. For there is many a small betrayal in the mind, a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break sending with shouts the horrible errors of          childhood storming out to play through the broken dike. And as elephants parade holding each          elephant's tail, but if one wanders the circus won't find the          park, I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty to know what occurs but not recognize the fact. And so I appeal to a voice, to something         shadowy, a remote important region in all who talk: though we could fool each other, we should         consider— lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark. For it is important that awake people be awake, or a breaking line may discourage them back to          sleep; the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe — should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.