Edward Alexander in some sad home falls alone
And sees, clearly now, the Inmost Light.
When blinking lights upon the bent and skewed horizon
Begin their sudden prophecy; when your
Confused and burdened city hermit's soul
Is looking from on high at their debacle; when
You seek a respite from your daily thoughts and labours; when
You sense a new disaster in the coming dawn;
When all your moans and prayers are for naught –
Let lights that swiftly blink and play upon the bent horizon,
And barking dogs, and honking cars, and howling wind
That carries back unanswered prayers on its shoulders
Uncover their uncomfortable truth.
Your very life is mere contamination,
Your mind is bleak deformity, your voice
Is blasphemy against the fierce and awesome God.
The love you treasure is an ugly weakness,
The loyalty you cherish is a sheer decay,
The jealousy you hide is but a toy.
Your blood's desires are drops that make the tiny dying ripples
On world's impartial, black and oily Ocean.
And yet those fickle lights that blink, and blink, and slowly fade
Remind you of the only Light that be,
The rays that crush you down, the powerful waves of Light
That grind you into glad and thankful dust,
That free you from the black and fearful morrow,
That promise you the ultimate forgiveness,
That stop the hated Sun in its unloving tracks.
Hail to the Light! Just seize the precious gift it offers.
Take down your human body like a cloak,
Destroy it, burn it, throw it to the barking dogs;
Unbutton and release your soul's defenses,
Let them be carried far away by whistling, howling wind;
Drown your desires in deep and sleepy Ocean;
Abandon loves, and loyalties, and hopes;
Lay down your voice and let it slowly die
Under the cold, and blank, and dreadful coat of snow;
And finally, when no more things remain
Of cowardly progression of your thoughts and labours,
Collapse under the sweet and deadly burden of the Light
And rise again, cleansed, naked, and, at last, forgiven –
Your journey is fulfilled. There'll be no more
Dawn, and neither dusk. Your time has stopped;
Your self has ceased to be. Pray to the Light,
And thank it for its cold and dreadful mercy,
And thank the blinking lights upon the bent and skewed horizon
That signaled you the path to your salvation
Like beacons in a shining, shining sea.