The stone grows old.
Eternity is not for stones.
But I shall go down from this airy space, this swift white
peace, this stinging exultation;
And time will come close about me, and my soul stir to the
rhythm of the daily round.
Yet, having known, life will not press so close,
And always I shall feel time ravel thin about me.
For once I stood
In the white windy presence of eternity.
Eunice Tietjens
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/presence-of-eternity/
|
