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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. |