I Am Running to You from the Nets of My Loneliness

I am running to you from the nets of my loneliness

And I seek in sweet dreaming the truth of the holiness

Yet deceived by the dawn and its garland of gain

I shall carry that wreath to the grave of the autumn air

Where beneath melting snow, in the springtime's returning glare

Leaves are watching us back — like a sorrow, like pain

For a moment of parting — so strange and desirable

For a moment of doubt — so obscure, indefinable

And for endlessness filled with illusion and glow

I would ask of Aurora and Eros, if they would tell

Where the measure is hidden that, weighting the tears that fell

Made the balance of sorrow and solace below

But those idols have faded, become mere calligraphy

Like the letters of gods that are tracing epigraphy;

And the sounds of the hearts that grew weary and cold

They will seal in sarcophagi, leave them in slumber's haze

In the void of unknowing — for fear of the mighty pace

Of the herald whose footsteps already unfold

He is running again from the nets of his loneliness

Having read 'twixt the lines the illusion of holiness

And deceived by the dawn and its garland of gain

He shall carry that wreath to the grave of the autumn air

Where beneath melting snow, in the springtime's returning glare

Leaves will hide from his eyes their unspoken refrain