This is my prayer, that I may know before I leave why the earth called me to her arms.
Why her night’s silence spoke to me of stars, and her daylight kissed my thoughts into flower.
Before I go may I linger over my last refrain, completing its music, may the lamp be lit to see your face and the wreath woven to crown you.
LII
What music is that in whose measure the world is rocked?
We laugh when it beats upon the crest of life, we shrink in terror when it returns into the dark.
But the play is the same that comes and goes with the rhythm of the endless music.
You hide your treasure in the palm of your hand, and we cry that we are robbed.
But open and shut your palm as you will, the gain and the loss are the same.
At the game you play with your own self you lose and win at once.