“Poetry is a sword of lightning ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it”. Tis’ an unalloyed, ethereal blade, a bold dagger around which no mortal sheathe could wrap. Tis’ an electric sword, a flaming rod of steel, a keen weapon wielded by the tireless Uriel. He is, after all, the immobile, unblinking angel, the stolid cherub by whom our re-admission to Eden is forever barred. Until he relents, let us marvel at the poet’s hand setting the sky ablaze.