Poems
THEME/S
Your hands once wrote their potent will
Upon my brow of trance;
The fire-script burns and glimmers still,
A dire ordinance.
It bids me to explore the night,
(For the day's tasks are done),
Go through the rock-doors and ignite
Down there the Fire, the Sun.
But I have neither strength nor skill,
And my frail eyes cannot see.
Are You then there? is it Your will?
Where will I find the key?
Will night's black scroll be ever unfurled?
The music of the Word,
The meaning of the hidden world
Within us ever be heard?
Page 139
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