Holy of holies Confessions of an anarchist [by J. E. Barlas] |
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22
XVIII.
[Sometimes I stand upon the lower plain]
Sometimes I stand upon the lower plain,Gazing across the illimitable woe,
Sin's rivers with their wide and freezing flow,
Pale haze of doubt from swamps of wrong and pain,
Impassable, inevitable, and strain
Towards the sunset's devastating glow
Reddening with conflagration the far snow,
Branding life's desert with a bloody stain.
Ill dreams are on me; demons point and grin;
A witches' sabbath shrieks around my path,
Against the archangel urging their dark claim;
And from the red east, in revenge of sin,
Love the Destroyer rises, winged with wrath,
And all the world seems swallowed up in flame.
Oct. 11th, 1885.
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