The Forerunner

You are your own forerunner, and the towers you have builded are but the

foundation of your giant-self. And that self too shall be a foundation.

And I too am my own forerunner, for the long shadow stretching before me

at sunrise shall gather under my feet at the noon hour. Yet another

sunrise shall lay another shadow before me, and that also shall be

gathered at another noon.

Always have we been our own forerunners, and always shall we be. And all

that we have gathered and shall gather shall be but seeds for fields yet

unploughed. We are the fields and the ploughmen, the gatherers and the

gathered.

When you were a wandering desire in the mist, I too was there, a

wandering desire. Then we sought one another, and out of our eagerness

dreams were born. And dreams were time limitless, and dreams were space

without measure.

And when you were a silent word upon Life’s quivering lips, I too was

there, another silent word. Then Life uttered us and we came down the

years throbbing with memories of yesterday and with longing for

tomorrow, for yesterday was death conquered and tomorrow was birth

pursued.

And now we are in God’s hands. You are a sun in His right hand and I an

earth in His left hand. Yet you are not more, shining, than I, shone

upon.

And we, sun and earth, are but the beginning of a greater sun and a

greater earth. And always shall we be the beginning.

* * * * *

You are your own forerunner, you the stranger passing by the gate of my

garden.

And I too am my own forerunner, though I sit in the shadows of my trees

and seem motionless.