by Clark Ashton Smith
Thy light is an eminence unto thee
And thou art upheld by the pillars of thy strength.
Thy power is a foundation for the worlds:
They are builded thereon as upon a lofty rock
Whereto no enemy hath access.
Thou puttest forth thy rays, and they hold the sky
As in the hollow of an immense hand.
Thou erectest thy light as four walls
And a roof with many beams and pillars.
Thy flame is a stronghold based as a mountain:
Its bastions are tall, and firm like stone.
The worlds are bound with the ropes of thy will,
Like steeds are they stayed and constrained
By the reins of invisible lightnings.
With bands that are stouter than iron manifold,
And stronger than the cords of the gulfs,
Thou withholdest them from the brink
Of outward and perilous deeps,
Lest they perish in the desolations of the night,
Or be stricken of strange suns;
Lest they be caught in the pitfalls of the abyss,
Or fall into the furnace of Arcturus.
Thy law is as a shore unto them,
And they are restrained thereby as the sea.
Thou art food and drink to the worlds:
Yea, by the sustenance are they sustained,
That they falter not upon the road of space
Whose goal is Hercules.
When thy pillars of force are withdrawn,
And the walls of thy light fall inward,
And thy head is covered with the Shadow,
The worlds shall wander as men bewildered
In the wasteness void of life and barren.
Athirst and unfed shall they be
When the springs of thy strength are dust
And thy fields of light are black with dearth.
They shall perish from the ways
That thou showest no longer,
And emptiness shall close above them.