The Adventure of the Apocalypse

Lord of dream-love

Eyes like blue lotuses,

Figure and face of gold,

Each finger-nail a gem—

The seers behold

The Perfect and Eternal,

Past wonderings:

Moved by His glorious calm

The whole heart sings!

With halo of silver hair

Out-timing time—

Beard like a starless night,

Secret sublime

Of a young infinity—

The nameless One

Is waiting and Vigilling

Yet calling none.

Love ocean-deep, sky-high,

Dreams in that gaze;

Tongues of a fire of love,

The arms upraise

Their gold to the unknown

From which He came

For showing the dull earth

How to be flame!

Not through a lust to win

His glowing grace

But through an ache to be

That formless Space

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He draws the heart of man:

Lacking void peace—

Support of utter freedom—

Form can release

No conqueror energy,

Outfiowering

From weary broken shoulders

Wing and vast wing.

So never does He shine

His own appeal,

But makes the mind of the seers

Inwardlv feel

Profound on dim profound

Where they must fall

To echo the overarching

Unseen beyond all

And from that chasm of trance

Wake to new birth,

Discovering in their bodies

A heaven of earth,

An image of the Shape

Burning above,

The omnipotently tranquil

Lord of dream-love.

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