HE who would climb the heights of tone
And scale the peaks beyond the listening ear,
Must first walk over water
And learn to stand on air, alone.
He who would swim the waves of light
And dive past shores into a sunless glow,
Must first merge with his shadow
And melt through solid glass, like night.
Where eyes are fins and sound is leap,
The rhythmic force performs its own ballet;
When dreams are fired in clay,
They burn a path through timeless sleep.
In His Image
WHO has not looked into the heart of night
and seen the darker light,
concealed like spectral stars
beyond the rim of Mars,
Who has not listened to the sound of mind
and heard the silence wind,
like rivers underground
out to a sea profound,
has only eyes and ears.
Who has not reached above the clouded span
and touched the cosmic plan,
upheld like spider's climb
upon the spokes of time,
Who has not followed the labyrinthine thread
And crushed the monstrous dread,
that other men may gleam
the glory of the dream,