Somewhere deep within memory before my superstitions
I knew the sovereignties of my person, the inmates of my mind,
And in this an anointing from every other station, earthly and divine.
In the beginning, ever as the boy came to his fruition,
This he knew as he had stood there, a single draught of light in his right hand.
That star appeared first within him, then his eyes, and then at Bethlehem—a sign,
The promised Great Announcement—to some few shepherds and divines,
Truths that only they perceived, as oddly as did I. Written in the sand,
The boy so soon to be a man, so early recreated there to read, a wondrous page
Illumined. How, then, could it be that no witness sighed,
No movement otherwise was seen in others since that first night’s spawning sky;
I owned within me every star and blessing that the moon possessed; an Age,
Both Question and perspicuous Answer, Interpretation even before the Dream
And yet never once craved confirmation nor entertained the thought to flee?