In a Bright Night

I must be old to know who is older.

But I was young to know Who is ageless,

Whose sunrise marks a turning point in the universe,

Who kindles cold candles,

Striding in no striving stresses above all critical Critiques.

It will be too late to be late: for, I must focus on my focus,

Besides, levels are in levels.

Even, time is tame in the bower of Your Power, free from freedom.

What is the beginning of Your beginning, please?

And will there ever be a beginning of Your end?

To know this, it is too late to be too early.

For even the end of Your end is the endless beginning of Your beginning!

And the end of Your beginning, oh Most High,

Is the unending end of Your endless end!

In the bright night, as often as in a heaven’s earth,

I sought the thoughts of Your thought in my thoughts:

To know the existence of Your existent experiences

With this fallen globe of a water drop’s size.

I did think of thinking about them: it is too early to be too early!

But when Immortality shall have absorbed mortality,

There will be no question of posing questions.