Thought

A mask, a perpetual natural disguiser of herself,

Concealing her face, concealing her form,

Changes and transformations every hour, every moment,

Falling upon her even when she sleeps.

Gliding o'er all, through all,

Through Nature, Time, and Space,

As a ship on the waters advancing,

The voyage of the soul — not life alone,

Death, many deaths I'll sing.