WHEN IN THE depth of the night in the phantasmal light of the sick-bed appears your wakeful presence, it seems to me that the countless suns and stars have guaranteed my little life: then I know that you will leave me and the fear spreads from sky to sky, the fear of the terrible indifference of the All.
I WILL MEET one day the Life within me, the joy that hides in my life, though the days perplex my path with their idle dust. I have known it in glimpses, and its fitful breath has come upon me making my thoughts fragrant for a while. I will meet one day the Joy without me that dwells behind the screen of light-and will stand in the overflowing solitude where all things are seen as by their creator.