think what you want about the uselessness of art for art's sake

Nobody can get inside me
until the angels get there first.
A vision stands scratching his wing
on the other side.
Two angels fly among the trees.
O ocean that stops my blood
O sun! that dries it up
O clouds that carry it off
and the courage inside
our tough organism
     that loses life so easily.

Think what you want
          about the uselessness
          of art for art's sake,

or science as a social metaphor.

Neither can change
               this world

or become a comrade to the enslaved
embittered masses
or a ruby in the elite crown
of the greedy few.

That's why nobody is allowed inside me
until the angels
bring their defiant message
to reconstruct the resumption
          of life everlasting
               of love, of hope.

[Joseph Ceravolo {1934-1988}, 'After Image' from Collected Poems]