METEMPSYCHOSIS

Oftentimes as I sleep, my soul is musing

how down the ages, borne by change, wings beating,

I cruised the starry depths, in thought un-fleeting,

menhir, then wave, then tree, then bird, enthusing.

Via such diverse forms, each stepwise using,

in human-kind I woke, heart anxious beating,

a fledgling’s fall, from woman’s soul, world-meeting,

my soul both suffering and love effusing.

Before I simply lived. Now love’s pained feeling

gives me pause, to the top step I’ve been bidden,

all changes rung; my final goal reached nearly:

Might godliness now lift the mask, revealing

clearly what hence I’ve sensed, by smoke’s veil hidden,

or must I perish now, drawn void-ward merely.