Last Ride

Now thus far come to be not measured
In how far short of the glory fallen,
But to turn and glance over the shoulder
At the surprising distance covered.

The terrestrial robe of dust and grime,
The matted hair, the starry crown
Bejeweled for each loss, hard fought, won,
And likewise for every comfort shunned.

Step then into the light,
Clear of mind, soul swept,
Colors blazed, visored against the glare
Of the blinding shade.

Mount up with winged delight
And run, run through,
the long, longing night.