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THE RED SONG

And by endless generations before us;No hands—not even mine—could shake its rooted strength.
So was my naked soul battered and scarred,So was my heart flamed with hopeless love,Until its bruised blood stained the path to heaven,And its weary cry of unfulfillmentShrieked shuddering through all my dead and living moments.
The drops fall, one by one,—The scarlet stain widens and darkensTo dead blackness.
III.I will not yield to the hopeless fate,—I, with a giant's strength and a giant's desire.
Look! I take the form of the beloved within my hands,And, fired with a god's creative frenzy,I shape anew a beloved that I can love.

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