but if a living dance upon dead minds <br />why,it is love;but at the earliest spear <br />of sun perfectly should disappear <br />moon's utmost magic,or stones speak or one <br />name control more incredible splendor than <br />our merely universe, love's also there: <br />and being here imprisoned,tortured here <br />love everywhere exploding maims and blinds <br />(but surely does not forget,perish, sleep <br />cannot be photographed,measured;disdains <br />the trivial labelling of punctual brains... <br />-Who wields a poem huger than the grave? <br />from only Whom shall time no refuge keep <br />though all the weird worlds must be opened?<br /><br />Edward Estlin Cummings<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/but-if-a-living-dance-upon-dead-minds/
