I WAS among multitudes of children Dancing at the foot of a mountain. A breeze blew out of the east and swept them as leaves, Driving some up the slopes....
All was changed. Here were flying lights, and mystic moons, and dream-music. A cloud fell upon us. When it lifted all was changed.
I was now amid multitudes who were wrangling. Then a figure in shimmering gold, and one with a trumpet, And one with a sceptre stood before me. They mocked me and danced a rigadoon and vanished....
All was changed again. Out of a bower of poppies A woman bared her breasts and lifted her open mouth to mine. I kissed her.
The taste of her lips was like salt. She left blood on my lips. I fell exhausted. I arose and ascended higher, but a mist as from an iceberg
Clouded my steps. I was cold and in pain. Then the sun streamed on me again, And I saw the mists below me hiding all below them.
And I, bent over my staff, knew myself Silhouetted against the snow. And above me Was the soundless air, pierced by a cone of ice,
Over which hung a solitary star! A shudder of ecstasy, a shudder of fear Ran through me. But I could not return to the slopes —
Nay, I wished not to return. For the spent waves of the symphony of freedom Lapped the ethereal cliffs about me. Therefore I climbed to the pinnacle.
I flung away my staff. I touched that star With my outstretched hand. I vanished utterly.
For the mountain delivers to Infinite Truth Whosoever touches the star.
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