There are a very few times when something lifts
Your soul up inside you like a drop of crystal:
A whole world from its sun and broken colours,
A congregation of sights and shaking things;
And your eyes are on your world
As on the drop of crystal --
Yet your world shall fear being poured out
That its fullness will not endure
And will tremble to each extremity...
And so you are given to all the worlds.
The edges of airy distances flow from your eyes
And horrors darkening in them shall be absorbed;
And the near and far things shall find you --
And demand your soul.
In the silence of the nights
You will stand atop mountains,
And put your head in between great cold stars.
They will sink to the land of the living below;
And on the last burning of their distress
The black forgetfulness will descend --
You are woken terror
Above the darkness.
A star shall fall
A bellow rises from a trembling flame
From the distress of ruin to the heavens --
The star shall fall on your soul
And burn out in its depths...
And it shall be morning
Here you are hovering on the face of the depths
To beat out upon them your deep heavens,
With the great sun in your hand --
Until evening.