(S 1) |
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AT LAST there came a bare indifferent sky |
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Where Silence listened to the cosmic Voice, |
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But answered nothing to a million calls; |
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The soul’s endless question met with no response. |
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(S 2) |
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5 |
An abrupt conclusion ended eager hopes, |
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A deep cessation in a mighty calm, |
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A finis-line on the last page of thought |
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And a margin and a blank of wordless peace. |
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(S 3) |
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There paused the climbing hierarchy of worlds. |
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(S 4) |
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10 |
He stood on a wide arc of summit Space |
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Alone with an enormous Self of Mind |
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Which held all life in a corner of its vasts. |
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(S 5) |
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Omnipotent, immobile and aloof, |
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In the world which sprang from it, it took no part: |
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15 |
It gave no heed to the paeans of victory, |
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It was indifferent to its own defeats, |
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It heard the cry of grief and made no sign; |
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Impartial fell its gaze on evil and good, |
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It saw destruction come and did not move. |
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(S 6) |
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20 |
An equal Cause of things, a lonely Seer |
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And Master of its multitude of forms, |
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It acted not but bore all thoughts and deeds, |
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The witness Lord of Nature’s myriad acts |
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Consenting to the movements of her Force. |
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(S 7) |
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25 |
His mind reflected this vast quietism. |
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(S 8) |
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This witness hush is the Thinker’s secret base: |
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Hidden in silent depths the word is formed, |
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From hidden silences the act is born |
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Into the voiceful mind, the labouring world; |
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30 |
In secrecy wraps the seed the Eternal sows |
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Silence, the mystic birthplace of the soul. |
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(S 9) |
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In God’s supreme withdrawn and timeless hush |
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A seeing Self and potent Energy met; |
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The Silence knew itself and thought took form: |
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35 |
Self-made from the dual power creation rose. |
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(S 10) |
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In the still self he lived and it in him; |
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Its mute immemorable listening depths, |
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Its vastness and its stillness were his own; |
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One being with it he grew wide, powerful, free. |
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(S 11) |
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40 |
Apart, unbound, he looked on all things done. |
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(S 12) |
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As one who builds his own imagined scenes |
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And loses not himself in what he sees, |
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Spectator of a drama self-conceived, |
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He looked on the world and watched its motive thoughts |
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45 |
With the burden of luminous prophecy in their eyes, |
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Its forces with their feet of wind and fire |
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Arisen from the dumbness in his soul. |
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(S 13) |
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All now he seemed to understand and know; |
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Desire came not nor any gust of will, |
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50 |
The great perturbed inquirer lost his task; |
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Nothing was asked nor wanted any more. |
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(S 14) |
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There he could stay, the Self, the Silence won: |
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His soul had peace, it knew the cosmic Whole. |
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(S 15) |
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Then suddenly a luminous finger fell |
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55 |
On all things seen or touched or heard or felt |
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And showed his mind that nothing could be known; |
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That must be reached from which all knowledge comes. |
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(S 16) |
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The sceptic Ray disrupted all that seems |
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And smote at the very roots of thought and sense. |
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(S 17) |
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60 |
In a universe of Nescience they have grown, |
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Aspiring towards a superconscient Sun, |
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Playing in shine and rain from heavenlier skies |
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They never can win however high their reach |
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Or overpass however keen their probe. |
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(S 18) |
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65 |
A doubt corroded even the means to think, |
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Distrust was thrown upon Mind’s instruments; |
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All that it takes for reality’s shining coin, |
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Proved fact, fixed inference, deduction clear, |
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Firm theory, assured significance, |
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70 |
Appeared as frauds upon Time’s credit bank |
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Or assets valueless in Truth’s treasury. |
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(S 19) |
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An Ignorance on an uneasy throne |
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Travestied with a fortuitous sovereignty |
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A figure of knowledge garbed in dubious words |
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75 |
And tinsel thought-forms brightly inadequate. |
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(S 20) |
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A labourer in the dark dazzled by half-light, |
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What it knew was an image in a broken glass, |
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What it saw was real but its sight untrue. |
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(S 21) |
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All the ideas in its vast repertory |
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80 |
Were like the mutterings of a transient cloud |
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That spent itself in sound and left no trace. |
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(S 22) |
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A frail house hanging in uncertain air, |
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The thin ingenious web round which it moves, |
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Put out awhile on the tree of the universe, |
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85 |
And gathered up into itself again, |
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Was only a trap to catch life’s insect food, |
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Winged thoughts that flutter fragile in brief light |
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But dead, once captured in fixed forms of mind, |
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Aims puny but looming large in man’s small scale, |
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90 |
Flickers of imagination’s brilliant gauze |
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And cobweb-wrapped beliefs alive no more. |
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(S 23) |
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The magic hut of built-up certitudes |
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Made out of glittering dust and bright moonshine |
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In which it shrines its image of the Real, |
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95 |
Collapsed into the Nescience whence it rose. |
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(S 24) |
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Only a gleam was there of symbol facts |
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That shroud the mystery lurking in their glow, |
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And falsehoods based on hidden realities |
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By which they live until they fall from Time. |
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(S 25) |
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100 |
Our mind is a house haunted by the slain past, |
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Ideas soon mummified, ghosts of old truths, |
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God’s spontaneities tied with formal strings |
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And packed into drawers of reason’s trim bureau, |
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A grave of great lost opportunities, |
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105 |
Or an office for misuse of soul and life |
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And all the waste man makes of heaven’s gifts |
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And all his squanderings of Nature’s store, |
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A stage for the comedy of Ignorance. |
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(S 26) |
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The world seemed a long aeonic failure’s scene: |
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110 |
All sterile grew, no base was left secure. |
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(S 27) |
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Assailed by the edge of the convicting beam |
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The builder Reason lost her confidence |
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In the successful sleight and turn of thought |
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That makes the soul the prisoner of a phrase. |
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(S 28) |
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115 |
Its highest wisdom was a brilliant guess, |
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Its mighty structured science of the worlds |
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A passing light on being’s surfaces. |
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(S 29) |
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There was nothing there but a schema drawn by sense, |
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A substitute for eternal mysteries, |
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120 |
A scrawl figure of reality, a plan |
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And elevation by the architect Word |
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Imposed upon the semblances of Time. |
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(S 30) |
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Existence’ self was shadowed by a doubt; |
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Almost it seemed a lotus-leaf afloat |
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125 |
On a nude pool of cosmic Nothingness. |
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(S 31) |
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This great spectator and creator Mind |
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Was only some half-seeing’s delegate, |
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A veil that hung between the soul and Light, |
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An idol, not the living body of God. |
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(S 32) |
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130 |
Even the still spirit that looks upon its works |
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Was some pale front of the Unknowable; |
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A shadow seemed the wide and witness Self, |
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Its liberation and immobile calm |
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A void recoil of being from Time-made things, |
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135 |
Not the self-vision of Eternity. |
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(S 33) |
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Deep peace was there, but not the nameless Force: |
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Our sweet and mighty Mother was not there |
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Who gathers to her bosom her children’s lives, |
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Her clasp that takes the world into her arms |
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140 |
In the fathomless rapture of the Infinite, |
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The Bliss that is creation’s splendid grain |
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Or the white passion of God-ecstasy |
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That laughs in the blaze of the boundless heart of Love. |
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(S 34) |
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A greater Spirit than the Self of Mind |
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145 |
Must answer to the questioning of his soul. |
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(S 35) |
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For here was no firm clue and no sure road; |
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High-climbing pathways ceased in the unknown; |
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An artist Sight constructed the Beyond |
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In contrary patterns and conflicting hues; |
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150 |
A part-experience fragmented the Whole. |
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(S 36) |
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He looked above, but all was blank and still: |
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A sapphire firmament of abstract Thought |
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Escaped into a formless Vacancy. |
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(S 37) |
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He looked below, but all was dark and mute. |
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(S 38) |
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155 |
A noise was heard, between, of thought and prayer, |
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A strife, a labour without end or pause; |
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A vain and ignorant seeking raised its voice. |
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(S 39) |
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A rumour and a movement and a call, |
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A foaming mass, a cry innumerable |
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160 |
Rolled ever upon the ocean surge of Life |
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Along the coasts of mortal Ignorance. |
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(S 40) |
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On its unstable and enormous breast |
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Beings and forces, forms, ideas like waves |
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Jostled for figure and supremacy, |
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165 |
And rose and sank and rose again in Time; |
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And at the bottom of the sleepless stir, |
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A Nothingness parent of the struggling worlds, |
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A huge creator Death, a mystic Void, |
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For ever sustaining the irrational cry, |
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170 |
For ever excluding the supernal Word, |
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Motionless, refusing question and response, |
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Reposed beneath the voices and the march |
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The dim Inconscient’s dumb incertitude. |
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(S 41) |
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Two firmaments of darkness and of light |
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175 |
Opposed their limits to the spirit’s walk; |
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It moved veiled in from Self’s infinity |
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In a world of beings and momentary events |
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Where all must die to live and live to die. |
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(S 42) |
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Immortal by renewed mortality, |
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180 |
It wandered in the spiral of its acts |
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Or ran around the cycles of its thought, |
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Yet was no more than its original self |
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And knew no more than when it first began. |
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(S 43) |
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To be was a prison, extinction the escape. |
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