Of Space and Time
by EDITH HENRICH
THE man looks at the mountain with the fog
of distance on it lovelier than grass,
and then he lifts and slowly turns the glass
that calls it to him like a faithful dog.
Man is an animal at home in space:
the earth and sky are beautiful to him;
imagination presses at the rim
of all horizon for a farther place.
of distance on it lovelier than grass,
and then he lifts and slowly turns the glass
that calls it to him like a faithful dog.
Man is an animal at home in space:
the earth and sky are beautiful to him;
imagination presses at the rim
of all horizon for a farther place.
He fits his wings to climb as eagles climb;
he fetches constellations in a mirror;
but time escapes him; time is unleashed terror;
he is an animal obsessed by time.
He has no instrument to hold it with
except his counted pulse, his measured breath.
he fetches constellations in a mirror;
but time escapes him; time is unleashed terror;
he is an animal obsessed by time.
He has no instrument to hold it with
except his counted pulse, his measured breath.