And I am become a thistledown floating



And I am become a thistledown floating —
Floating, floating, rising, falling —
Sailing seas of sheerest ether.

And I am become a butterfly kiting —
Light as light and soft as scent,
Delicate as a shrivelled leaf.

And I am become a speck of pollen flying —
A mote of dust in the eye of God,
From a honeybee's wing flown off.

And I am become a wafted ash —
Brittle wafer, thin as thought,
A feather from a forgotten fire.

Seed of tomorrow sown of the past —
A flower, a flicker, a breath,
A brief eternity of life and death.