This poem was written by Vinokur and was inspired by my colleauge SS. Thanks to both!
There is, of course, the promiscuity of flesh -
reviled or celebrated through the ages.
There is, as well, a promiscuity of the soul.
It madly, blindly, greedily grasps at life.
From this multiplicity, this frenzied fielding of efforts,
good or bad ensues:
Confusion, incompletion, frustration, sorrow, wreckage.
Or multi-faceted genius
steeped in knowledge, experience, wisdom.
It wins the Nobel Prize.
Is hailed, admired by all.
which it will be?