The clouds came here now.
Sunset had gone
The Dusk had moved
And wild the Bats
...
Look!
Look they have come seven figures in frac
White frac
And tall and lank and vague they stand.
...
The Miter wearing had they on their heads
As stars shone the diamonds
Of Beauty in it
...
Figures of wonder
Of Beauty thunder
The Bird was wise
Still be, and beautiful
...
‘Times without Limit, ' muttered the Monsignor
Turned round:
‘Times without Limit'
...
‘Yes my Monsignor; yes,
All of us, all of Things
without Limit be going down in their genealogy
and even going further in other direction.
...
as with a chisel write I
in my hands holding every verse
nay every word:
I must be the chiseler of words
...
They passed, they passed, they passed
Grey darkening
On the walls sliding:
The Miter wearing had they on their heads
...
Thought winds and winds
The coiled windings
To unfold times will take
Into the pincers of the martyrdom
...
The Mystic was relative; so be it!
There was Pain in the soul that had to
Choose
At the crossroads of the multi-furcation
...