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■ The oak
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EYES
Eyes are opening from the darkness of desire, eyes that dim the breaking east, with languid grace and softness and strange shimmer. A sense of fear of the unknown moves in the heart of weariness. An invisible breath is listening with pain of spirit to the overtone of weariness behind frail fresh innocent voices in the vibrant air. A choir of angelic voices echoes and multiplies through an endless vibration. Yet in what darkness and dense ignorance is the mental battle fought! It is all a compound of virulent passions, mean spirit and dangerous duplicity. And you see the mighty Northern Ocean in vast whirls round the naked, melancholy isles, the bleak shores, the vast tempest of the Arctic Zone and all those forlorn regions of dreary space, -that isolated region of frost and snow, where firm fields of ice, the accumulation of centuries of winters, glaze the Alpine heights, surround the pole and gather all the multiplied rigors of extreme cold. Shadowy, like all notions so difficult to comprehend that flow dimly through people’s minds, but strangely impressive… Where is the individual soul enriched with spiritual knowledge and blessed with the divine love from all eternity? Where is that soul for which life has become a divine gift for every moment and sensation? The world in all its solid substance and complexity no longer exists for this soul just as a theorem of divine power, love and universality. And all the words, feelings, touches, memories and prayers are now giving the significance to a rock standing up alone in a sea of billow and spray, to a broken boat stranded on a desolate coast, to the cold, dead and ghastly moon hanging through bars of cloud and glancing at a wreck just sinking. Suddenly, the image of two ships becalmed on a torpid sea appears like the sight of marine phantoms in the eyes of darkness.
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