early morning
(to carmelo)
(to carmelo)
my infinite world is
in the closed egg of my will towards god —
every finished piece
of joy and clean bitterness
is put aside on the deep bottom of the sacred eye —
always has god’s heat been over me and
shall always be till perfection breaks through
the vast forest of my world —
his face is of no use for my timefilling work —
at some close or approaching time
the egg of my world will open,
my work shall stop —,
and eternal repeating of that single act of god,
which is me,
shall be the sign that my will may go —