Words for the Chisel (collection)/Threnody in Thin Air

by Genevieve Taggard

Threnody in Thin Air

Have you ever been lost?Or gone like a ghostFrom pillar to postAfloat like a frost—Lost, lost on the coastOf the billowy air—Have you ever been lost?

Or ever sailed byToo shaken to cry,Too quiet to careFor the slow cattle's stare,Lost, lost in the air,In the billowy air,In the wide, wide colorless sky?

I was lost, care not why—I was doomed, I was done.And I floated and spunAs dizzily lieThe dots on the sun;As hither and yon,Zig-zag and awryAs light and aloneI was lifted and blownIn the wide, wide colorless sky.

You are lost? So am I.This vague dreamy death,—This exquisite trance, Is the first little driftIn the long dreary danceWe shall dance by and by.

Are all lost? Will we lieEffortless, proneOn the shapes of the sky?Will we crumble with stoneScatter with hail,In the wind that goes on,Past nothingness blown,To column the palePearl edges of cloud,—Bellow aloud,And shatter and batter and tearThe colorless air.

Past stars, the last sun,I was witness of onePale universe, crossedWith little sparks, pouredPast sunlight's great sword,On nothingness, lost. . . .—Saw and was lost.

For this, for sheer sight,For this I went far,Went out with the lightOf an opening star,And saw peering, whereTurned circles of air,The billowy air,The wide, wide colorless sky.

Peeped beyond dream;Looked far beyondThese planets and foundThe last zone of allThe level, the tallGreat colorless bourne. . . .

—So to returnWith nothing,—to knowWe are tiny moths . . . O,We are lost, you and I,We are doomed, we are done,As anyone isWho stares at the sun. . . .

We have stared at the sun,We are doomed, we are done,We have floated and spunAs dizzily lieThe dots on the sun,—

Spinning, we spun,As hither and yon,Zig-zag and awry,As light and aloneWe were lifted and blownIn the wide, wide colorless sky. . . . .