O friend,
I am anxious for thee.
The long race with time,
The ceaseless dance with the winds of space,
The burden of lonely sorrow
And the gathering in of joy:
They are over, and I await thee
As the parched land the coming rains.
The love that corrupts the form of its loveliness,
Offerings to pacify the inward fear of thought,
Vain hopes void of understanding,
Visions and dreams ever in the semblance of man,
Death that creates darkness in life:
They are over, and I await thee
As the lotus the cool night air.
As the snowy peak in a still valley.
Hear me, O friend,
I await thee. |
