II. INTERLUDE

Alas, I am too foolish or too wise,

Too soon am blinded or I see too far!

How can I follow with expectant feet,

What is the beacon light that holds your eyes,

Can this blind alley lead to any star

And through this dark confusion, what retreat?

For heaven is awed when comets crash to earth,

But we, who grope and question our soul's worth,

Stumbling, awaken only bitter mirth.