Who walks with beauty has no need of fear;
The sun and moon and stars keep pace . . .
Invisible hands restore the ruined year,
And time, itself, grows beautifully dim.
I have a feeling that my boat has struck, down there in the depths, against a great thing. And nothing happens! Nothing ...
Silence ... Waves ...
Nothing happens? Or has everything happened,
and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?