Darkly you sweep on, Eternal Fugitive, round whose bodiless rush
stagnant space frets into eddying bubbles of light. Is your heart
lost to the Lover calling you across his immeasurable loneliness?
Is the aching urgency of your haste the sole reason why your
tangled tresses break into stormy riot and pearls of fire roll
along your path as from a broken necklace? Your fleeting steps kiss
the dust of this world into sweetness, sweeping aside all waste;
the storm centred with your dancing limbs shakes the sacred shower
of death over life and freshens her growth.
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