Updated 9/11/22
A man went before a strange God -The God of many men, sadly wise. And the deity thundered loudly, Fat with rage, and puffing. "Kneel, mortal, and cringe And grovel and do homage To My Particularly Sublime Majesty." The man fled. Then the man went to another God -The God of his inner thoughts. And this one looked at him With soft eyes Lit with infinite comprehension, And said, "My poor child!"
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Mystic shadow, bending near me, Who art thou? Whence come ye? And -- tell me -- is it fair Or is the truth bitter as eaten fire? Tell me! Fear not that I should quaver. For I dare -- I dare. Then, tell me!
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I walked in a desert. And I cried, "Ah, God, take me from this place!" A voice said, "It is no desert." I cried, "Well, But -The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon." A voice said, "It is no desert."
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Behold, from the land of the farther suns I returned. And I was in a reptile-swarming place, Peopled, otherwise, with grimaces, Shrouded above in black impenetrableness. I shrank, loathing, Sick with it. And I said to him, "What is this?" He made answer slowly, "Spirit, this is a world; This was your home."
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A man saw a ball of gold in the sky; He climbed for it, And eventually he achieved it -It was clay. Now this is the strange part: When the man went to the earth And looked again, Lo, there was the ball of gold. Now this is the strange part: It was a ball of gold. Aye, by the heavens, it was a ball of gold.
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Many workmen Built a huge ball of masonry Upon a mountain-top. Then they went to the valley below, And turned to behold their work. "It is grand," they said; They loved the thing. Of a sudden, it moved: It came upon them swiftly; It crushed them all to blood. But some had opportunity to squeal.
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Places among the stars, Soft gardens near the sun, Keep your distant beauty; Shed no beams upon my weak heart. Since she is here In a place of blackness, Not your golden days Nor your silver nights Can call me to you. Since she is here In a place of blackness, Here I stay and wait
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I looked here; I looked there; Nowhere could I see my love. And -- this time -She was in my heart. Truly, then, I have no complaint, For though she be fair and fairer, She is none so fair as she In my heart.
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A youth in apparel that glittered Went to walk in a grim forest. There he met an assassin Attired all in garb of old days; He, scowling through the thickets, And dagger poised quivering, Rushed upon the youth. "Sir," said this latter, "I am enchanted, believe me, To die, thus, In this medieval fashion, According to the best legends; Ah, what joy!" Then took he the wound, smiling, And died, content.
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Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground. Why do you stand, expectant? Do you hope to see it In one of your withered days? With your old eyes Do you hope to see The triumphal march of justice? Do not wait, friend! Take your white beard And your old eyes To more tender lands.
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A man feared that he might find an assassin; Another that he might find a victim. One was more wise than the other.
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The sage lectured brilliantly. Before him, two images: "Now this one is a devil, And this one is me." He turned away. Then a cunning pupil Changed the positions. Turned the sage again: "Now this one is a devil, And this one is me." The pupils sat, all grinning, And rejoiced in the game. But the sage was a sage.
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I was in the darkness; I could not see my words Nor the wishes of my heart. Then suddenly there was a great light -"Let me into the darkness again."
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I met a seer. He held in his hands The book of wisdom. "Sir," I addressed him, "Let me read." "Child -- " he began. "Sir," I said, "Think not that I am a child, For already I know much Of that which you hold. Aye, much." He smiled. Then he opened the book And held it before me. -Strange that I should have grown so suddenly blind.
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There were many who went in huddled procession, They knew not whither; But, at any rate, success or calamity Would attend all in equality. There was one who sought a new road. He went into direful thickets, And ultimately he died thus, alone; But they said he had courage.
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A god in wrath Was beating a man; He cuffed him loudly With thunderous blows That rang and rolled over the earth. All people came running. The man screamed and struggled, And bit madly at the feet of the god. The people cried, "Ah, what a wicked man!" And -"Ah, what a redoubtable god!"
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A learned man came to me once. He said, "I know the way, -- come." And I was overjoyed at this. Together we hastened. Soon, too soon, were we Where my eyes were useless, And I knew not the ways of my feet. I clung to the hand of my friend; But at last he cried, "I am lost."
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Blustering God, Stamping across the sky With loud swagger, I fear You not. No, though from Your highest heaven You plunge Your spear at my heart, I fear You not. No, not if the blow Is as the lightning blasting a tree, I fear You not, puffing braggart. If Thou canst see into my heart That I fear Thee not, Thou wilt see why I fear Thee not, And why it is right. So threaten not, Thou, with Thy bloody spears, Else Thy sublime ears shall hear curses. Withal, there is One whom I fear: I fear to see grief upon that face. Perchance, friend, He is not your God; If so, spit upon Him. By it you will do no profanity. But I -Ah, sooner would I die Than see tears in those eyes of my soul.
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Behold, the grave of a wicked man, And near it, a stern spirit. There came a drooping maid with violets, But the spirit grasped her arm. "No flowers for him," he said. The maid wept: "Ah, I loved him." But the spirit, grim and frowning: "No flowers for him." Now, this is it -If the spirit was just, Why did the maid weep?
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A spirit sped Through spaces of night; And as he sped, he called, "God! God!" He went through valleys Of black death-slime, Ever calling, "God! God!" Their echoes From crevice and cavern Mocked him: "God! God! God!" Fleetly into the plains of space He went, ever calling, "God! God!" Eventually, then, he screamed, Mad in denial, "Ah, there is no God!" A swift hand, A sword from the sky, Smote him, And he was dead.
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A man toiled on a burning road, Never resting. Once he saw a fat, stupid ass Grinning at him from a green place. The man cried out in rage, "Ah! Do not deride me, fool! I know you -All day stuffing your belly, Burying your heart In grass and tender sprouts: It will not suffice you." But the ass only grinned at him from the green place.
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Charity thou art a lie, A toy of women, A pleasure of certain men. In the presence of justice, Lo, the walls of the temple Are visible Through thy form of sudden shadows.
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God fashioned the ship of the world carefully. With the infinite skill of an All-Master Made He the hull and the sails, Held He the rudder Ready for adjustment. Erect stood He, scanning His work proudly. Then -- at fateful time -- a wrong called, And God turned, heeding. Lo, the ship, at this opportunity, slipped slyly, Making cunning noiseless travel down the ways. So that, forever rudderless, it went upon the seas Going ridiculous voyages, Making quaint progress, Turning as with serious purpose Before stupid winds. And there were many in the sky Who laughed at this thing.
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There was set before me a mighty hill, And long days I climbed Through regions of snow. When I had before me the summit-view, It seemed that my labour Had been to see gardens Lying at impossible distances.
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"Have you ever made a just man?" "Oh, I have made three," answered God, "But two of them are dead, And the third -Listen! Listen! And you will hear the thud of his defeat."
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I saw a man pursuing the horizon; Round and round they sped. I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man. "It is futile," I said, "You can never -- " "You lie," he cried, And ran on.
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I stood upon a high place, And saw, below, many devils Running, leaping, and carousing in sin. One looked up, grinning, And said, "Comrade! Brother!"
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I stood upon a highway, And, behold, there came Many strange peddlers. To me each one made gestures, Holding forth little images, saying, "This is my pattern of God. Now this is the God I prefer." But I said, "Hence! Leave me with mine own, And take you yours away; I can't buy of your patterns of God, The little gods you may rightly prefer."
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In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, "Is it good, friend?" "It is bitter -- bitter," he answered; "But I like it Because it is bitter, And because it is my heart."
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Many red devils ran from my heart And out upon the page, They were so tiny The pen could mash them. And many struggled in the ink. It was strange To write in this red muck Of things from my heart.
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Once there came a man Who said, "Range me all men of the world in rows." And instantly There was terrific clamour among the people Against being ranged in rows. There was a loud quarrel, world-wide. It endured for ages; And blood was shed By those who would not stand in rows, And by those who pined to stand in rows. Eventually, the man went to death, weeping. And those who staid in bloody scuffle Knew not the great simplicity.
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"Tell brave deeds of war." Then they recounted tales, -"There were stern stands And bitter runs for glory." Ah, I think there were braver deeds.
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"And the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the heads of the children, even unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me." Well, then I hate thee, unrighteous picture; Wicked image, I hate thee; So, strike with thy vengeance The heads of those little men Who come blindly. It will be a brave thing.
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The wayfarer, Perceiving the pathway to truth, Was struck with astonishment. It was thickly grown with weeds. "Ha," he said, "I see that none has passed here In a long time." Later he saw that each weed Was a singular knife. "Well," he mumbled at last, "Doubtless there are other roads."
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There was a man with tongue of wood Who essayed to sing, And in truth it was lamentable. But there was one who heard The clip-clapper of this tongue of wood And knew what the man Wished to sing, And with that the singer was content.
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"Think as I think," said a man, "Or you are abominably wicked; You are a toad." And after I had thought of it, I said, "I will, then, be a toad."
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"Truth," said a traveller, "Is a rock, a mighty fortress; Often have I been to it, Even to its highest tower, From whence the world looks black." "Truth," said a traveller, "Is a breath, a wind, A shadow, a phantom; Long have I pursued it, But never have I touched The hem of its garment." And I believed the second traveller; For truth was to me A breath, a wind, A shadow, a phantom, And never had I touched The hem of its garment.
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Two or three angels Came near to the earth. They saw a fat church. Little black streams of people Came and went in continually. And the angels were puzzled To know why the people went thus, And why they stayed so long within.
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Upon the road of my life, Passed me many fair creatures, Clothed all in white, and radiant. To one, finally, I made speech: "Who art thou?" But she, like the others, Kept cowled her face, And answered in haste, anxiously, "I am good deed, forsooth; You have often seen me." "Not uncowled," I made reply. And with rash and strong hand, Though she resisted, I drew away the veil And gazed at the features of vanity. She, shamefaced, went on; And after I had mused a time, I said of myself, "Fool!"
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Walking in the sky, A man in strange black garb Encountered a radiant form. Then his steps were eager; Bowed he devoutly. "My Lord," said he. But the spirit knew him not.
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You tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle, and an ass.
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When the prophet, a complacent fat man, Arrived at the mountain-top, He cried: "Woe to my knowledge! I intended to see good white lands And bad black lands, But the scene is grey."
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There was crimson clash of war. Lands turned black and bare; Women wept; Babes ran, wondering. There came one who understood not these things. He said, "Why is this?" Whereupon a million strove to answer him. There was such intricate clamour of tongues, That still the reason was not.
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Ay, workman, make me a dream, A dream for my love. Cunningly weave sunlight, Breezes, and flowers. Let it be of the cloth of meadows. And - good workman - And let there be a man walking thereon.
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A god came to a man and said to him thus: "I have an apple, it is a glorious apple, aye I swear by my ancestors of the eternities before this eternity, it is an apple that is from the inner thoughts of heaven's greatest. And this I will hang here, and then I will adjust thee here, thus you may reach it. And you must stifle your nostrils and control your hands and your eyes, and sit for 60 years, but leave the apple."
The man answered in wise: "Oh, most interesting god, what folly is this? Behold, thou hast moulded my desires even as thou hast moulded the apple. How, then? Can I conquer my life which is thou? My desires? Look, you foolish god, if I thrust behind me 60 white years I am a greater god than god. And then, complacent splendor, thou wilt see that the golden angels that sing pink hymns around thy throne top will be lower than my feet."
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