My spirit is wrapped in the wind of Light.

Whirled away on the wings of night.

Sable-plumed are the wonderful wings,

But the silver of moonlight subtly springs

Into the feathers that flash with the pace

Of our flight to the violet bounds of space.

Time is dropped like a stone from the stars.

Space is a chaos of broken bars.

Being is merged in a furious flood

That rages and hisses and foams in the blood.

See! I am dead! I am passed, I am passed

Out of the sensible world at last.

I am not. Yet I am, as I never was,

A drop in the sphere of molten glass.

Where radiance changes and shifts and drapes

The Infinite Soul in finite shapes.

There is light, there is life, there is love, there is sense

Beyond speech, beyond view, beyond evidence.

There is wonder intense, a miraculous sun,

As the many are molten and mixed into one.

With the heat of its passion, the one has invaded

The heights of its soul, and its laughter is braided

With comets whose tails are the galaxies.

Like winds on the nights inaccessible seas.

Down to the flower so tender and bright