Long ago he became too great to be
Lord of Time, and his territory extended far...
When would it have exhausted him? But a god
Might once choose everyday life and live like mortals,
And share their fate. For the law of fate
Requires that people should know each other,
So that when silence returns, there will also be a language.
Wherever the spirit is at work, we are present too,
And debate about what is best. To me, the best
Is when the picture is done, and the artist
Finishes and steps transfigured from his workplace,
The quiet God of Time, and only the reconciling
Law of love extends from here to heaven.
Man has learned much since morning,
For we are a conversation, and we listen
To one another, but soon we’ll be song.
And the picture of time, which the great spirit unfolds,
Lies as a sign before us, indicating that a covenant
Between himself and others, himself and other powers, exists.
Not he alone, but also the unconceived and eternal ones
Are recognizable in the picture,
Just as our mother, the earth, recognizes herself,
And light and air, through the plant kingdom.
But the all-gathering day of the festival
Is the ultimate sign of love, the testimony
Of your existence, o holy powers.
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