The empty streets I've walked Filled with tomorrow's dreams, Of endless visions talked Until the morning's gleams
Washed over brick and stone And called me to my bed Restless and alone, By creative forces led
Or delusions of the mind; Possibilities And plans of very kind, Potentialities.
Then slowly I awoke To wonder couched within, First shedding of the cloak Of ego to begin.
Called by an unheard Voice, Moved by unmoving Force My spirit could rejoice Upon its upward course.
But now the gift of years, The helpmate of my soul Is gone and half-spent tears Obscure the long-sought goal.
This too shall pass and I Enriched by covert grace Shall gain my destiny Escape the hoops of space
Interminably long, Shall with those souls unite The humble and the strong, And recognize the light
That lit this tendered lamp And more than succour gives. Indelible Hisstamp Upon our struggling lives.
Poems Undated (1727)
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