The Abyss
So the abyss-
The slippery cold heights,
After the blinding misery,
The climbing, the endless turning,
Strikes like a fire,
A terrible violence of creation,
A flash into the burning heart of the abominable;
Yet if we wait, unafraid, beyond the fearful instant,
The burning lake turns into a forest pool,
The fire subsides into rings of water,
A sunlit silence.
--from Theodore Roethke's The Far Field, via whiskey river
posted by claudine |Added at
11:03 PM| |
poems
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