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First light: forms growing in the dimming dark,
First rays stab across the sky, into my eye,
Spraying glory in their wake, and stealing our stark
Darkness, lest we die.
First life, from the Mother’s earth emerging,
Breath of God and Body giv’n in time,
Over endless darkness now triumphing,
Coming full round to the eternal rhyme.
Fall we quickly into narrow blindness,
Thinking we will never have to die,
Our present state imagined into vastness
In our teeny, tiny little lives.
The great eternal clock’s one place of stillness
Lies at the center of its ancient face.
We, thinking that we live there,
Do not see the hand on which we race.
While light and dark around us are unfolding,
We pale to see around us gathering doom.
If we cannot pace the clock, what else,
When final threads are cut from off the loom?
But life goes ‘round, it’s not a straight shot
Off the end of our short span of years.
The first light is the next light, white and hot,
Spraying glory ‘cross the field of fears.
We are not vast, but the eternal clock,
On whose face we trace our tiny lives,
At once can trace the movements of the oceans,
While holding still the place where all arrives.
All praise to you, emerging deathless brightness,
All praise to you, for light upon my sod,
For in your light I see the final vastness
Of this old clock, the very face of God.