Hundred Hundred Cycles
Lives and loves I have shed like the mulberry in autumn,
Withered becomings all snapped and floating passed
Over the currents of time through many bodies worn
And the minds many assumed, raised and discarded.
Wither this peak, or an elevated plateau-base for further apex
I know not, strange halos ring my mind, an unearthly
Throb takes shelter in my breast to stage strange revels,
And my thoughts dally with the high muses covertly.
My feet canst hardly tread freely, lest it disturb the prone Mother
Earth, who tired from primordial labour that gave me birth
Now leaves it to us, her sun-fathered brood, to prepare
A radiant day that dawns with God’s laughter and mirth.
I who am her child, now stand a guarding knight to her purpose,
A hundred hundred cycles thus, I yet cannot her recompense.