The Cloth Of The Tempest

These of living emanate a formidable light,

Which is equal to death, and when used

Gives increase eternally.

What fortifies in separate thought

Is not drawn by wind or by man defiled.

So whispers the parable of doubleness.

As it is necessary not to submit

To power which weakens the hidden forms;

It is extraordinarily more essential

Not to deny welcome to these originating forces

When they gather within our heat

To give us habitation.

The one life must be attempted with the other,

That we may embark upon the fiery work

For which we were certainly made.

What has been separated from the mother,

Must again be joined; for we were born of spirit,

And to spirit all mortal things return,

As it is necessary in the method of earth.

So sings the parable of singleness.

My comforter does not conceal his face;

I have seen appearances that were not marshalled

By sleep.

                  Perhaps I am to be stationed

At the nets which move through this completing sea.

Or I have hunting on my sign.

Yet the ground is visible,

The center of our seeing. (The houses rest

Like sentinels on this hawking star.

Two women are bathing near a trestle;

Their bodies dress the world in golden birds;

The skin of their throats is a dancing flute. . .

How alter or change? How properly

Find an exact equation? What is flying

Anywhere that is more essential to our quest?

Even the lake. . . boat walking on its blue streets;

Organ of thunder muttering in the sky. . . A tiger

Standing on the edge of a plowed field. . .

What is necessary? What is inseparable to know?

The children seek silvery-pretty caves. . .

What are we to teach?)

The distance is not great

To worlds of magnificent joy or nowhere.