Oh invisible, we view thee, O world intangible, we touch thee, o world unknowable, we know thee.

Agnosticism is the everlasting perhaps.

Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare, And left the flushed print in a poppy there: Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came, And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame. With burnt mouth red like a lion's it drank The blood of the sun as he slaughtered sank, And dipped its cup in the purpurate shine When the eastern conduits ran with wine.

The desolation and terror of, for the first time, realizing that the mother can lose you, or you her, and your own abysmal loneliness and helplessness without her.

Oh invisible, we view thee, O world intangible, we touch thee, o world unknowable, we know thee.

Nothing begins, and nothing ends, That is not paid with moan; For we are born in others pain And perish in our own.

Thou cannot stir a flower Without troubling a star.