"God of the Meridian,
And of the East and West,
To Thee my soul has flown,
And my body is earthward pressed.
It is an awful mission,
A terrible division,
And leaves a gulf austere
To be filled with worldly fear.
Ay, when the soul is fled
To high above our head,
Affrighted we do gaze
After its airy maze
As doth a mother wild,
When her young infant child
Is in an eagle's claws--
And is this not the cause
Of madness? -- God of Song,
Thou bearest me along
Through sights I scarce can bear:
O let me, let me share
With the hot lyre and Thee,
The staid Philosophy.
Temper my lonely hours,
And let me see Thy bowers
More unalarmed."
And of the East and West,
To Thee my soul has flown,
And my body is earthward pressed.
It is an awful mission,
A terrible division,
And leaves a gulf austere
To be filled with worldly fear.
Ay, when the soul is fled
To high above our head,
Affrighted we do gaze
After its airy maze
As doth a mother wild,
When her young infant child
Is in an eagle's claws--
And is this not the cause
Of madness? -- God of Song,
Thou bearest me along
Through sights I scarce can bear:
O let me, let me share
With the hot lyre and Thee,
The staid Philosophy.
Temper my lonely hours,
And let me see Thy bowers
More unalarmed."
--John Keats
I'd been leafing through a beloved creased and flecked paperback volume of Keats when I rediscovered this poem. The words spoke deeply to me of divine trauma--something a few of us have experienced when working with and honoring our deities. I thought I would share these words here that it may lift the day of someone who has experienced similarly.
"God of the Meridian" by John Keats. Written prior to 1821, Public Domain.
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