http://www.organelle.org/pbooks/mysteryway.pdf

Isthemane

Now last this grip on stars released, on histories and lovers ceased. Now last this fullness all returns, the subtle verse, ecstatic turn… of face from all that long was known, to all that’s secret, lost, and loaned… at birth to coursers in the skies, their paths obscure, their names despised… but in their way and counsels true, now last this grip, released, renewed. Now last all beauty, lost and scorned, now fast all seeings, now forlorn. Now last I hold this one I love, now last we’re lost, now black the dove. Now burning on the deadly shore, now burdened with the hearts we bore, from human hope and dream of flight, to fearsome pain, and fever’d blight. Now last I sing, now last my light, these frozen blooms, their lethal might.

— from Mystery Way

http://www.organelle.org/pbooks/mysteryway.pdf