Supernal Dialogue
Two beings
Stood on the edge of things —
Their breath was space,
And their eyes were suns.
It was this way he passed —
I know the sound.
More worlds —
He can not forbear —
Look down this lane —
It was dark till he passed.
Do you see — anything?
Seeds of light — glowing, whirling —
A handful.
Separating now.
Fierce fire-balls —
So many — so many. Will he get what he wants —
The perfect flower?
Flower of delight — to bloom beside his throne?
Sometime he will.
[ A pause ]
Look — that little one —
Burning, aching —
Trailing its tiny orbs —
Which one?
See — scarlet — oh, alive!
Deep in that right-hand cluster near the dark.
With tiny trailers — will it be one of them?
That clouded one, maybe?
Look — it foams down.
The clouds lift —
There are seas —
Lands — a creeping green —
Sounds of air moving.
Hush — oh, whisper! — do you see
Dark specks that crawl?
And wings that flash in the air?
Spawn — immeasurably minute.
What does he mean, the fecund one, creating without reason or mercy?
He must — life is his song.
He dreams — he wills.
Watch now — they change, those atoms.
They stand on end — they lay stone on stone —
They go clad — they utter words.
Proud — they take their spoil.
Kings — and slaves.
Oh queer — ingenious! They gather in towns,
They filch our fires to carry them over land and sea.
They measure the stars — they love — they dream.
But war — pain — obliterative war and pain.
So brief — each one a tiny puff — and out.
Grotesque!
A few look up — salute us before they fall.
A few dare face him.
Is it enough?
[ A pause ]
It cools down — their whirling world.
It is silent — cold.
Has he lost again? Can he fail?
Who are we to question? Though he fail again and again —
Yes, who are we?
He must go on — he must get the flower.
Two beings
Stood on the edge of things —
Their breath was space,
And their eyes were suns.
Stood on the edge of things —
Their breath was space,
And their eyes were suns.
It was this way he passed —
I know the sound.
More worlds —
He can not forbear —
Look down this lane —
It was dark till he passed.
Do you see — anything?
Seeds of light — glowing, whirling —
A handful.
Separating now.
Fierce fire-balls —
So many — so many. Will he get what he wants —
The perfect flower?
Flower of delight — to bloom beside his throne?
Sometime he will.
[ A pause ]
Look — that little one —
Burning, aching —
Trailing its tiny orbs —
Which one?
See — scarlet — oh, alive!
Deep in that right-hand cluster near the dark.
With tiny trailers — will it be one of them?
That clouded one, maybe?
Look — it foams down.
The clouds lift —
There are seas —
Lands — a creeping green —
Sounds of air moving.
Hush — oh, whisper! — do you see
Dark specks that crawl?
And wings that flash in the air?
Spawn — immeasurably minute.
What does he mean, the fecund one, creating without reason or mercy?
He must — life is his song.
He dreams — he wills.
Watch now — they change, those atoms.
They stand on end — they lay stone on stone —
They go clad — they utter words.
Proud — they take their spoil.
Kings — and slaves.
Oh queer — ingenious! They gather in towns,
They filch our fires to carry them over land and sea.
They measure the stars — they love — they dream.
But war — pain — obliterative war and pain.
So brief — each one a tiny puff — and out.
Grotesque!
A few look up — salute us before they fall.
A few dare face him.
Is it enough?
[ A pause ]
It cools down — their whirling world.
It is silent — cold.
Has he lost again? Can he fail?
Who are we to question? Though he fail again and again —
Yes, who are we?
He must go on — he must get the flower.
Two beings
Stood on the edge of things —
Their breath was space,
And their eyes were suns.
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