Blessed Longing

Blessed Longing

Tell no-one else, only the wise,

For the crowd will sneer at once.

I wish to praise what is fully alive,

What longs to flame towards death.

When the calm enfolds the love-nights

That created you, where you have created

A feeling from the Unknown steals over you,

While the tranquil candle burns.

You remain no longer caught

In the penumbral gloom

You are stirred and new, you desire

To soar to higher creativity.

No distance makes you ambivalent.

You come on wings, enchanted

In such hunger for light, you

Become the butterfly burnt to nothing.

So long as you have not lived this:

To die is to become new,

You remain a gloomy guest

On the dark earth.