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The Mystic

Cale Young Rice

There is a quest that calls me,
 In nights when I am lone,
The need to ride where the ways divide
 The Known from the Unknown.
I mount what thought is near me
 And soon I reach the place,
The tenuous rim where the Seen grows dim
 And the Sightless hides its face.
   I have ridden the wind,
   I have ridden the sea,
   I have ridden the moon and stars.
   I have set my feet in the stirrup seat
   Of a comet coursing Mars.
   And everywhere
   Thro' the earth and air
   My thought speeds, lightning-shod,
   It comes to a place where checking pace
   It cries, "Beyond lies God!"
It calls me out of the darkness,
 It calls me out of sleep,
"Ride! ride! for you must, to the end of Dust!"
 It bids — and on I sweep
To the wide outposts of Being,
 Where there is Gulf alone —
And thro' a Vast that was never passed
 I listen for Life's tone.
   I have ridden the wind,
   I have ridden the night,
   I have ridden the ghosts that flee
   From the vaults of death like a chilling breath
   Over eternity.
   And everywhere
   Is the world laid bare —
   Ether and star and clod —
   Until I wind to its brink and find
   But the cry, "Beyond lies God!"
It calls me and ever calls me!
 And vainly I reply,
"Fools only ride where the ways divide
 What Is from the Whence and Why"!
I'm lifted into the saddle
 Of thoughts too strong to tame
And down the deeps and over the steeps
 I find — ever the same.
   I have ridden the wind,
   I have ridden the stars,
   I have ridden the force that flies
   With far intent thro' the firmament
   And each to each allies.
   And everywhere
   That a thought may dare
   To gallop, mine has trod —
   Only to stand at last on the strand
   Where just beyond lies God.

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