Thus is portrayed in words of import grave Through Benedictus' noble spirit-sight, The inward life of many human souls. Each phrase goes home destructive to my heart-- Unfolding truly mine own way and life Until this day, with cruel vividness. And should a god this very hour appear Descending on me in a raging storm And clad in wrath, yet could his threatening might Not torture me with more appalling fears Than do the Master's words, as strong as fate. Long hath my life been, but its web displays Nothing but pictures shadowy and dim Which haunt my dreaming soul and fondly strive To mirror truths of nature and of mind. With this dream-fabric hath my thought essayed To solve the riddle of the universe. Down many a path my restless soul I turned. Yet do I clearly see that I myself, Was not the active master of my soul When threads of thought along illusion's path Spun themselves out to cosmic distances. So that which I in my content beheld In pictures, left me empty, led to naught. Then came across my path Thomasius, The youthful painter. He indeed strode on, Upheld by truest energies of soul To that exalted spiritual way Which transforms human life, and makes to rise From hidden gulfs of soul the energy Which feeds the springs of life within ourselves. That which awoke from out his inmost soul Abides in every man. And since from him I gained this revelation, I do count As chief amongst the many sins of life To let the spirit's treasure grow corrupt. I know henceforth that I must search and seek And nevermore allow myself to doubt. In days gone by my vanity of thought Could have enticed me to the false belief That unto knowledge man aspires in vain; And only failure and despair belong To those who would lay bare the springs of life. And were all wisdom to unite in this, And were I powerless to reject the claim That human destiny demands of man That he shall lose his individual self And sink into the gulf of nothingness, Yet would I make the venture unafraid. Such thoughts would be a sacrilege today, Since I have learned I cannot win repose Until the spirit treasure in my soul Hath been unveiléd to the light of day.