A SONG OF THE ALL

Brother, my Brother! whoever you are,

Rocked in the atom and nursed in the star,

Swaddled in flesh by the great Elohim —

Lords of the Flame — and whose day is a dream

Known in the night: O my Brother, all hail!

Hither a prophet, a priest or a slave,

Came you, my Brother — a king or a knave,

Black man or red man or brown man or white,

Out of the land of an infinite light?

Here are my heart and my hand to you: hail!

Are you a liar, a sycophant's self

Sold for a shekel and pandering pelf?

Are you a snob or a murderer, thief,

Cringing to hell with the devil for chief?

Here are my robe and my crown to you: hail!

Greet you, my Brother! for I am all things —

Dust of the stars and the music of wings —

Eyes of the angels and Lucifer's mouth —

Wind of the North and a wind of the South —

Here are my sandals and staff to you: hail!