My madness bore me nearer to the fire,
I tasted breath; I knew I stood too close.
A fi\'ry cherub spoke in Aram tongue,
He burned like sun, yet pierced like winter snow,
And thus he spake: “Unshoe thy mortal foot,
For where thou standest now is holy ground.”
Then I beheld Almighty, terrible,
Who roared: “I am thy God, and none beside,”
His burning gaze crossed every hidden thought,
And all my lesser idols broke and died.
I felt his radiance peeling back my lies,
My spirit naked in that searing light.
I watched Him, solitary and distinct,
His throne devoured all language, form and sound,
I drew nigh; my name reduc’d to smoke and ash.
He set me where divine and doom converge,
Between the seen, dispersed, and the unknown,
Amidst tall ranks of angels, behemoths,
And mail-clad ghosts in armour wrought of hail.
I was to see His radiant scales of right,
Once His unshadow’d will had been reveal’d.
With fierce mercy He vouchsafed my flight,
One flaring car of golden-axled wheels,
Drawn by speckled steeds, cloud-winged and eager.
I rode its course, close-grazing heaven’s rim,
Filled with that high, exalting sense of awe
Which only Lords of heaven ever taste.
From that far verge I turn’d, there gather’d fast
Bright lures and demons, all that snares and charms.
Along the marge ’twixt Eden’s loam and Hell,
I saw a nameless goddess bowed in wait.
She fed cold hearths of stone with blood-warm gifts,
Her shadow spilled across the judgment gate.
My soul was split between the rival fires—
His blinding throne, her slow devouring kiss.
Half in His flame, half in her nether depths,
I was the wound a blaze refus’d to heal.