The Adventure of the Apocalypse

Altamira

In the cave of Altamira, hidden afar

On walls of ancient rock, lie the dawn-streaks

Of art, the painter soul's awakening

To animal beauty and animal energy—

Bison for ever caught by primitive hands!

But older than this cave, a secrecy

Hung between earth and eternity, is the rapt

Room of the inmost reverie within man.

Here hides a power of world-creating art,

Here dawns the ultimate simplicity

From whose omniscient oneness springs the birth

Of the million moods that make our universe.

The truth-soul Vigilling through time's changing tones

Writes, on the walls of this profound of trance,

Visions which archetype the animal heart-

Miraculous strengths fighting mortality!

Both seer and child is that ecstatic soul,

For this deep cave is a mother-mystery,

A paradising wisdom-wondrous womb.

But we who broke from it have lost the smile

Dreaming eternally on its magic mouth.

Wanderers are we, blind to the mountain-poise

Where heavenly inwardness delights itself!

Once more the womb must take us. Far withdrawn

From fragmentary Lustres, scattered loves,

We through a shining sleep above the mind

Must gather back the prime beatitude,

Awake again to our own divinity

And come new-born, wearing an aura of gold.

But O some voice of grace from heights occult

Must tune us to the path silvery straining,

Behind life's veil, towards the lone harmony!

What mantra shall draw down that guiding grace?

Sublime and sweet Source of all lovely light,

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Goddess! how should we name Thee, by what prayer

For clay's perfection call Thy word of help

From the hill-cave of Thy omnipotent calm!

Shall we from Altamira learn to invoke

Thy spirit as Mira of the Altitudes?. . .

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