The year of grace 1654.
November 23, the day of St. Clement.
Half past ten till half past twelve. FIRE.
Certitude, certitude, joy, joy, joy.
If the world should bare its heraclitean face
And the fire in the wood, the fire in the stone
Leap an arc to your heart and back
And feed itself through the hole in your soul
What place could you settle in then
Away from the flame?
Just change your name?
Certitude, certitude, joy, joy, joy.
If the note God sewed in the sky’s topcoat
Were chanted near your ear, midnight,
Would equations still encharm their symmetries on you?
Not god of masters, schoolmen, or savants.
Not god of soils or of the newborn nations.
Jesus Christ. And let me not forsake this fountain.
Certitude, certitude, joy, joy, joy.