The Secret Splendour

This hand, small hungerer for infinities,

Craving the whole future of earth's flowers, outstretching

Five fingers to the million-lustred sun,

Praying that invisible breasts of goddesses

Shape it to a dream that wings beyond all deeds—

This hand is ever empty, ever open

Lest there be a close to the mystery in life's heart,

The beating of a rhythm without a name,

Call of a deep that shakes the silent stars.

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