My courage is gone,
My energy spent;
The fire in my soul is dead.
I've come to the end!
What is the use of fighting?
What is the use of going on?
The sun does not shine,
the birds do not sing.
I find no more joy,
Now that you have gone.
So, at first, the patient watcher of earth sees only inanimate beauty, voiceless, without initiative. Then suddenly there is a clapping of wings, a flash of immortal radiance, a strange, haunting cry – and he has had a vision of the Soul of the World.
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