The cloud of mind is discharging its collected lightning.
...’tis He, arrayed In the soft light of his own smiles, which spread Like radiance from the cloud-surrounded moon....
The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose...
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Thy words are like a cloud of winged snakes.
In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
Oh lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed....
I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.