But when we thirst in this dry night,
we drink from hot wells poisoned with the blood of children,
and when we strain to hear a steady homing beam,
Our ears are balked by stifled moans and howls of desolation
from the throats of sisters, brothers, wild men
clawing at the gates for bread;

Even our own feeble hands
ache to seize the crown you wear
and work our private havoc through
the known and unknown lands of space.

Absolute in flame beyond us,
seed and source of dark and day,
Maker who we beg to be
our Mother, Father, Comrade, Friend;

Till our few atoms blow to dust,
or form again in wiser lives,
or find your face and hear our names
in your calm voice: the end of night,
If dark may end

Wellspring goal of dark and day,
Be here
Be now.