With a blank sorrow, heavy I am now grown;
Like things eternal, changeless stands my woe.
In vain I try to overcome my foe.
O Lord of Love! Make me more dead than stone.
Thy Grace of silent Smile I never feel;
The forger of evil stamps my nights and days.
His call my sleepless body ever obeys.
My heart I annihilate and try to heal.
The dumb earth-waste now burns a hell to my soul.
I fail to fight with its stupendous doom,
My breath is a slave of that unending gloom.
For Light I pine, but find a tenebrous goal.
Smoke-clouds cover my face of Spirit’s fire;
Naked I move in night’s ignorance deep and dire.
From: My Flute