We must pass like smoke or live within the spirits fire;
For we can no more than smoke unto the flame return
If our thought has changed to dream, or will unto desire,
As smoke we vanish through the fire may burn.
Lights of infinite pity star the grey dusk of our days:
Surely here is soul: with it we have eternal breath:
In the fire of love we live, or pass by many ways,
By unnumbered ways of dream to death.
