BRING BEAUTY and order into my forlorn life, woman, as you brought them into my house when you lived.
Sweep away the dusty fragments of the hours, fill the empty jars, and mend all that has been neglected.
Then open the inner door of the shrine, light the candle, and let us meet there in silence before our God.

FOR ONCE BE careless, timid traveller, and utterly lose your way; wide-awake though you are, be like broad daylight enticed by and netted in mist.
        Do not shun the garden of Lost Hearts waiting at the end of the wrong road, where the grass is strewn with wrecked red flowers, and disconsolate water heaves in the troubled sea.
        Long have you watched over the store gathered by weary years. Let it be stripped, with nothing remaining but the desolate triumph of losing all.

HE HAS made his weapons his gods.
When his weapons win he is defeated himself.