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As if an unintelligible phrase Suggested a million renderings to the Mind, It lends a purport to a random world. A conjecture leaning upon doubtful proofs, A message misunderstood, a thought confused Missing its aim is all that it can speak Or a fragment of the universal word. It leaves two giant letters void of sense While without sanction turns the middle sign Carrying an enigmatic universe, As if a present without future or past Repeating the same revolution's whirl Turned on its axis in its own Inane. Thus is the meaning of creation veiled; For without context reads the cosmic page: Its signs stare at us like an unknown script, As if appeared screened by a foreign tongue Or code of splendour signs without a key A portion of a parable sublime. It wears to the perishable creature's eyes The grandeur of a useless miracle; Wasting itself that it may last awhile, A river that can never find its sea, It runs through life and death on an edge of Time; A fire in the Night is its mighty action's blaze. This is our deepest need to join once more What now is parted, opposite and twain, Remote in sovereign spheres that never meet Or fronting like far poles of Night and Day. We must fill the immense lacuna we have made, Re-wed the closed finite's lonely consonant With the open vowels of Infinity, A hyphen must connect Matter and Mind, The narrow isthmus of the ascending soul: We must renew the secret bond in things, Our hearts recall the lost divine Idea, 
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