Ambergris

40 AMBERGRIS FROM THE TEMPLE OF THE HOLY GHOST The Palace of the World The fragrant gateways of the dawn Teem with the scent of flowers. The mother, Midnight, has withdrawn Her slumberous kissing hours : Day springs, with footsteps as a fawn, Into her rosy bowers. The pale and holy maiden horn In highest heaven is set. My forehead, bathed in her forlorn Light, with her lips is met ; My lips, that murmur in the morn, With lustrous dew are wet. My prayer is mighty with my will ; My purpose as a sword Flames through the adamant, to fill The gardens of the Lord With music, that the air be still, Dumb to its mighty chord. I stand above the tides of time And elemental strife ; My figure stands above, sublime, Shadowing the Key of Life, And the passion of my mighty rime Divides me as a knife. For secret symbols on my brow, And secret thoughts within, Compel eternity to Now, Draw the Infinite within.