The Growth of the God - Poem by René Arcos
BURNING gold, and light;
by the same token: trumpet flourishes!
to the profit of oblivion.
But better far, the tints of shade:
the life of lines in silence,
one's woman's eyes and their farewells,
serenity's full, speechless sun,
grace inclining, grace and tears,
all that beguiles,
then honey, and absinthe also.
Instants drowned in dream,
thought that dies, but lengthens as it dies,
sister of sighs,
And the delight when dream has built.
If the mind is lucid, and can build the mighty love,
even unto swooning,
a lifted look, a settling hand,
and the whole edifice falls in an avalanche.
Between his birth and death, a man on earth,
amid the mighty coveting and all the powers,
raising more high with every day his cup of soul,
if he can bear the question further, before all,
and make a frontier recede,
may say: I was the growth of a god.
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