A Turban for Dickinson

Have you prepared yourself to die Egypt? that is what the lot of you asked me.    I said “No”—unknown to I Eye had no say
in such a matter, but I stare now from this catalyst of crashing comets, retrograding bodies and ever-dying stars, laughing—with mighty thunders from my deepest of caverns

‘fore I say to Elohim of many nomen and degrees —“Death came easy to my yesterself;
it has been my resurrection that brought me a cold
and breathless hell.”