I hear an unseen child breathing in the wheat. I hearken, and it is the rapture of the universe and of my soul. Over the sea of the wheat the far-spreading sky, and unto the zenith the blue sky is one sound. I see no more. Where am I? Did I once live? Is love my dream? What I have dreamed of the universe, what I have thought, what I have suffered, is no more, Oh, is no more than a soft breathing. And I and the wheat no more than a soft, sweet breathing! |