Sunday, February 12, 2023

The Preparative by Thomas Traherne

 


Then was my soul my only all to me

      A living, endless eye

      Far wider than the sky,

Whose power and act and essence was to see.

      I was an inward sphere of light.

Or an interminable orb of sight,

     An endless and a living day,

A vital sun that round about did ray

     All life and sense,

A naked, simple, pure intelligence. 


NOTE: Traherne imagines himself remembering a time when, new-born, he was pure consciousness, free of self, not even aware of his body.  He put this experience in verse.  

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