The Edge of Light

Standing at the edge of the Earth, time ends,
and life immortal breathes, and sways the trees,
a finite-feeling warming-shivers sends,
all feels complete, the scent of final-peace,
yet, visions swept aside, it's all so far,
and will my wearied woe-filled legs arrive?
What more, will I beat heart below soft stars
for long? or will my final rest deprive,
the light I've coddled in my frozen flesh,
in clothes thus swaddled, the torch that must receive,
the spirit in the flame, in comely dress,
but who shall come for her? Alone she grieves,
Who will the shining wisdom choose to loose
the chains of worldliness, thereby produce
a heart of gold, a fitting throne for a King,
and eyes jewels, a seat that sets the soul to sing,
From far-away, I bid thee health and well,
the hour comes, take heart, and lawfully dwell

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