The Song Of The Dynamo.

I have been kissed by the Priestess of the Thin and Deadly Blood--         With the kiss that men call Lightning, and yet I did not die,     For the kiss was a message from God; I felt it and understood,     And I knew how He looked on the cosmic light and called it "Good";         I thrilled with a vibrant joy; I hummed with ecstasy.     Men hear me sing but they know not the source of my song;     I hold them enthralled with my mysterious eyes;     They quiver when I purr with the voice of a wanton woman;     They touch me and fall dead.     I am a dream of the Creator made visible;     My voice is an echo of the Voice that taught     The morning stars their choral hymn;     The force that binds me to the marts of men     Is the force that holds the planets in a leash while God     Drives them in glittering galaxy around the sun.     Here I am a weakling's symbol of a power     That spins the luminous girdle of Saturn in sure hands,     And frames the awful face of God in the shifting boreal light.     My soul is destiny and immortality;     It flashes in the eyes of the tempest, glows along     The phosphorescent billows where the hand of the Almighty     Is laid for a moment on the breast of the sea,     And the sea smiles;     My soul is the wingless word     That flies from zone to zone and speaks suddenly out of the void.     In the years that are to be     I shall soar like an evil bird over the warring camps of men,     And spew destroying poison.     I shall be the sinew of a strange wing,--     A wing that shall bear men into the forge of the thunder and the lightning.     But when I fail the groundlings shall look up     And see their brothers through the ether plunge,     Stricken, a haggard rout of flame-flotillas of the sun!     In the years that are to come     I shall be a servant in the house of men;     I shall breathe unutterable music on the spindle and the loom;     I shall sing, exultant, with the choristers of dreams fulfilled,     And light shall be bound like sandals on my feet.     I have been kissed by the Priestess of the Thin and Deadly Blood--         With the kiss that men call Lightning, and yet I did not die,     For the kiss was a message from God; I felt it and understood,     And I knew how He looked on the cosmic light and called it "Good";         I thrilled with a vibrant joy; I hummed with ecstasy.