7
Yet through this very stone, came the way through darkness
where I could not see, as if all the shadows were pathways
into light, as if all the agony was a message of peace, as if all
evil was to be loved. The cold throne of hate a comfort to me.
I stopped in that moment. I never returned. The gate was opening.
I was beginning again. The dawn was not red from where I stood.
The light from the mighty north had touched my parched dry skin,
My shoulder hunched, as still and strong as a hill from labouring.