il m' ecrive


Il  m' ecrive   ( he wrote )












that  the  knowledge  of  our  own  existence












is  only  faintly   grasped












as  in  a  dream












where  the  immensity  of   Time












and  the  infinity  of    Space












are  hid  behind  an  ever-changing  Mirror ---












we  view  ourselves




















but  do  not  know

































what  it  is  that  we  see  .  .  .






















































it  is  only  with  the  curtains   dropped
























































































and  our    beds












































resting  against  the  four - sided   precipice

































of  the  Valley  of  the unending  All ,




















that  with  eagle's  eyes












we  see      for  the  first  time







how  incredibly  close  pressed




one  moment  is  to  the  next


and  how  vast  and  unforgiving


is  the  Past




of  which  we  will  never  know







except  thru  the  image  and word  of others












and  the  Future




















which  is  not  as  a  blank  Page ,

































but  as  a  Book  that  is   filled






















































and  which  we  must  stop  reading  mid - course  .  .  .    .
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