The Visible Exhausts Me. I Am Dissolved

The Soul Has Many Motions, Body One.

But When I Breath With The Birds, The Spirit Of Wrath Becomes The Spirit Of Blessings, And The Dead Begin From Their Dark To Sing In My Sleep.

A Terrible Violence Of Creation,a Flash Into The Burning Heart Of The Abominable;yet If We Wait, Unafraid, Beyond The Fearful Instant,the Burning Lake Turns Into A Forest Pool,the Fire Subsides Into Rings Of Water,a Sunlit Silence.

To Follow The Drops Sliding From A Lifting Oar, Head Up, While The Rower Breathes, And The Small Boat Drifts Quietly Shoreward.

What's Madness But Nobility Of Soul At Odds With Circumstance? The Day's On Fire! I Know The Purity Of Pure Despair, My Shadow Pinned Against A Sweating Wall, That Place Among The Rocks--is It A Cave, Or Winding Path? The Edge Is What I Have........ ....... Dark,dark My Light, And Darker My Desire. My Soul, Like Some Heat-maddened Summer Fly, Keeps Buzzing At The Sill. ~from "the Waking" By Theodore Roethke