I dreamed I saw the world a misty void,
And darkness lay upon the watery deep.
'Twas vague and meaningless, no purpose lent it motion;
I looked more closely, and the darkness deepened,
Yet seemed it that I saw with more distinctness;
Could this be Mind, expressed thus in confusion?
Or this be Life, hedged in by finiteness,
And stayed by this strange thing called time
With nameless terror spreading apathy?
Held by some spell, in fear and doubt I watched
The fruitless birth-throes of its centuries;
The cruel wars for wealth, for pride, for power,
That knew no mercy for the vanquished foe;
Vain wars where blinding superstition strove
To force with carnage unity of thought;
Then wars for freedom, that each might pursue
In his own way his own concept of good;
Then kindlier feelings, sacrificing self
For others' welfare.
And ever the scene dissolved and ever changed,
Like to the changing of a troubled dream
In which it seemed that I myself took part
And shaped the vision to the ultimate
Of my ideal of happiness;
But always, ere my plans fruition bore,
Failure took hold and would not be denied;
And sore I suffered, for I would not yield
But madly strove each theory to uphold,
Though failure after failure marked it false,—
Obsessed, until confusion worse confounded
Dissolved my cherished theories into dust
And left me midst the ruin of dead hopes
In a blank wilderness of rash despair,
And then the winds of understanding blew
This dust into its native nothingness.
