I can feel souls, but have not yet the power To make their light grow visible in me. However close they are they generate Thoughts which but serve to light me from afar. How can I raise them to mine inner sight?
Thou wilt see them if thou dost swiftly grasp What they illumine in the cosmic light; Shouldst thou behold, use well that moment's space; Light such as this is quickly gone again.
What yonder guide's soul to his pupil speaks,-- That pupil's soul so near and dear to me,-- Should now illuminate my soul's domain.
Bring forth within this spirit-midnight hour The will that thou desir'st to feel again When earthly forces once more clothe thy form. Thy words shall prove a light to thy friend's soul.
Let then my words grow strong in cosmic light, Which at this cosmic midnight I confide Unto the soul brought me by Lucifer. Whatever in mine inmost soul is dear I will behold it and, beholding, speak, That it may form itself into a tone, To which this soul shall answer when on earth, And, loving it, shall live as it commands. What now do I see in mine inmost soul? A lofty counsel in flame-letters writ. My love for that dear guiding-soul flames out, Who in mine earth--as in my spirit-life Hath led me on through each successive age; Who ever found me when mine instant prayer Sought help in danger, even when it dwelt On spirit-heights itself; in dazzling light This love appears to me; sound out from me, Thou word of love, unto this other soul.
What flames are those this word of love doth wake? They glow so gently, yet their gentle light Pours forth a sense of lofty dignity; By wisdom's lightnings, whence a blessing flows, The cosmic ether is lit up around-- And bliss comes pouring with attendant joy O'er all the compass of my soul's domain. Of thee, Duration, would I crave a boon; Pour out thyself into this blessedness, And let my guide and let that other soul Now dwell therein with me in peacefulness.
Now let the lightnings vanish into naught Whose sharp flash brings to view necessities When souls awake and feel the Cosmic North. Let thunder also lose its roar, which rolls In warning at the cosmic midnight hour. Astrid, to thee I give a strict command: Keep close watch o'er this thunder-storm of souls Till in the course of time the soul awakes To find its cosmic midnight once again, Then shall it see itself in other guise, E'en in a picture of an olden time, And know how strength for lofty spirit-flight E'en from disaster may the soul's wings gain. A soul may never wish itself to fall; Yet, when it falls it must a lesson learn.