My Soul in Morning

From what intense alembic have I drunk

Inconscience, passing through the seas of birth,

That still my soul upon the bars of time

Must wait, nor vainly press the tides of night

But cling to truth while the ages wash beneath me,

Surging, foaming, dissolve and reappear

Sustained by deity, upborne in change,

Moving in the moments conscious flow

Though hardly of the saving touch aware,

To infant-like receive and patient, pray

Till an eye shall open and the being breathe

And the cloth be lifted in the final hour.