When the early morning

When the early morning light quietly
grows above the mountains. . . .

The world’s darkening never reaches
to the light of Being.

We are too late for the gods and too
early for Being. Being’s poem,
just begun, is man.

To head toward a star – this only.
To think is to confine yourself to a
single thought that one day stands
still like a star in the world’s sky.

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