A Part of My Soul

In the morning, I see a star
I know not where it comes from,
Nor where it goes.
Its loneliness, its evidence
Of foreign regions and far-blown snows,
Its breath the crystalized intelligence
Of irregular show.
It is the random quantam of my
Breath,
A savage piece of goodness,
Greatness, glory;
Though long ago I ceased to
Know from whence it went,
It is my legend and my endless story.
In the evening, it fades and drops
From earth its mysteries
Are rent,
And nothing comes again to
Break its heart,
Or burn a symbol in its chest;
So--so---it is mine,
Always and ever,
The star in the ether of the
Twilight sky
The turning crucifix of wonder
And desire.