To a space pregnant with the seed of tomorrow,
Shepherded I was by its myriad, brushing hands
Some pairing with my robes in a phantasmal dance,
Some repairing to their quotidian share of lands
All partaking of my clinging, vestig'al wit,
Leaving me voided as the premonitory sky -
- 'Fore a cumulative, vapoury mass of grey,
As a secretion of time itself, appeared nigh
And nigher, treading limbless in grace unworldly,
Till the night's cavity was flooded in its hue
And my perceptive language bound in its image,
Granting a pilgrimatic reform to my view:
Was it not but the molder of mass unyeilding,
The striving, professing one,
Its voice a silken hint?
Was it not but the wisened, bearded countenance,
Of the ancient, wondrous one,
Whom they adjudged 'the Wind'?
Shepherded I was by its myriad, brushing hands
Some pairing with my robes in a phantasmal dance,
Some repairing to their quotidian share of lands
All partaking of my clinging, vestig'al wit,
Leaving me voided as the premonitory sky -
- 'Fore a cumulative, vapoury mass of grey,
As a secretion of time itself, appeared nigh
And nigher, treading limbless in grace unworldly,
Till the night's cavity was flooded in its hue
And my perceptive language bound in its image,
Granting a pilgrimatic reform to my view:
Was it not but the molder of mass unyeilding,
The striving, professing one,
Its voice a silken hint?
Was it not but the wisened, bearded countenance,
Of the ancient, wondrous one,
Whom they adjudged 'the Wind'?
