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The Tyger ( a Blake-Light Tragic Treatise on 'Man')

After 'the Great Poet' Ranier Maria Rilke's, 'The Jaguar'
which I never quite understood, until I spent 3 days in the hole, alone on cold concrete and steel

Tiger, tiger,
burning bright,
through mine sorrows
and black nights --
Oh, what altar-light of lunacy
doth thou shine --
tis but my own mind!
Thou framed face's
from back of my brain --
I feel your pace-tensed muscles,
and ever recall your predator stare,
I sense it in my sleep
and is ever-present in my waking hours --
Now it comes that my stomach knots
with thou feline hunger
and intensly numb
flirtatious pawing play --
Watching rodents dance and play
from behind holy, candle-lit yellow
nighttime window frames --
This primal and material urge,
borne from my chest,
projected outward,
hunting down each minute of my days,
borne outward from my mourning--
Never, till now, have I
attained such pinnacles
as your primordial sorrow--
I still wonder at what man may someday be,
but you, my tyger --
You have always known,
what you long to be

18 Feb 19

(define the words in this poem)

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