On a Grey Thread/Oversoul
Oversoul
My laughter rings in the highest mountains,My mockery echoes vividly over the peaks,My laughter and my mockery dance lightly togetherLike derisive imps . . . But my soul never speaks.
My wisdom sits on a promontoryAnd remotely overwatches the world;My pain stays forever in that caveWhere the ragged ends of life come unfurled.
My love cuts downward between mountainsLike a torrential cataract, to the deeps,For love, like life, is a down-going.But my soul is like a thing that sleeps.
It knows the remorseless depths,The thinnest ether of the farthest height;There are no lights or darknesses for its discovering,It has crawled on the earth and it knows the joy of flight.
It is speechless because it knows all speeches,Future and present and what has gone before.It waits sphinxlike, and I myselfCannot guess what it is waiting for.