Sounds threaded on a silver line, They float and soar in heights divine: My soul’s desires, the pain I’ve known, Are melting in the fire’s throne! The soul is burning, blazing bright, Dissolved within this liquid light. Though blood runs hot within the vein, The soul is forged in fire’s reign! All heavy burdens burn away, The soul is light, no longer grey; The chains of gravity expire: Anguish and dread—lost to the fire! O, Fire! Pierce the darkest deep, Where wrath and terrors used to sleep! Across the yoke-bound fields of strife, Sow your flaming seeds of life! O Fire, ringing without end, Incinerate the thoughts I send— So they may scatter, white as bone, By winds of newer dreams be blown! O, Fire! Pierce the darkest deep! Incinerate all thought! The restless wind of newer dreams! But still the sounds float on the air, And thoughts are threaded, thin and bare: My soul’s desires, the pain I’ve known, Burn... to turn to ash and stone.
