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from “Loving the Dreadful Day of Judgment”

Alone, alone, about a dreadful wood
Of conscious evil runs a lost mankind,
Dreading to find its Father lest it find
The Goodness it has dreaded is not good:
Alone, alone about our dreadful wood…

The Pilgrim Way has led to the Abyss.
Was it to meet such grinning evidence
We left our richly odored ignorance?
Was the triumphant answer to be this?
The Pilgrim Way has led to the Abyss.

We who must die demand a miracle.
How could the Eternal do a temporal act,
The Infinite become a finite fact?
Nothing can save us that is possible:
We who must die demand a miracle…

For the garden is the only place there is, but you will not find it
Until you have looked for it everywhere and found nowhere that is
not a desert…

The Inevitable is what will seem to happen to you purely by chance;
The Real is what will strike you as really absurd;
Unless you are certain you are dreaming, it is certainly a dream of your own;
Unless you exclaim —“There must be some mistake”— you must be mistaken.

 

 


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