by Patience Worth
Am I then but an atom,
A whit of spew from the maw of Eternity-
Yea nothingness, set in the motion of agony,
That pulsing rhythm, which is a part of chaos?
Am I then but a whit, an atom of nothing,
A reckoning of the ages
Amalgamated for an instant,
To be disassembled as dust?
I who in my infiniteness
Am conscious of reason, and have inherited
The kinship with God, that of assemblage,
Which is the first act of creation?
I who am pithy of this, yea tingling
Of that substance which inflows matter,
And causeth it to become pulsate?
I then shall disassemble and become chaos?
The lie is before me! That consciousness,
Which is mine is but a mote of that
Which assembles, and that which assembles
Is the Power which creates,
And that which creates is God!
Last updated January 14, 2019