The Mystic: II. Life

A goblet drained is all my knowing,—
WWCup whence I have quaffed the wine:
From out the Unknown comes the flowing
WWAnd exhaustless juice divine,
That lends the blood its priceless crimson,
WWAnd the eye its living shine.

Embrace me, Mystery of Being;
WWFill my arteries, flood my brain,
And through me pour thy heart, till seeing,
WWThought is drowned, like dew in rain,
In pow’rful, pure participation:
WWSeparate life is separate pain.

Temple unseen of Truth immortal,
WWThought hath brought me to thy door;
Never passes he the portal,
WWI am drawn the threshold o’er;
And lo! I am a leaf that quivers
WWIn God’s joy-wind evermore!

Now are the light-waves round me rolling,
WWNow the love-tides through me run,
Mind and body new ensouling:
WWSeeing and being melt in one.
The ear is self-same with the music,
WWBeam with vision, eye with sun.

David Atwood Wasson

scene-du-deluge-604x270

Advertisements

Post a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s