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FLAME AGAINST THE WIND, by                    
First Line: Within myself, this bit of dying dust
Last Line: His soul the dream that flames within my heart.


Within myself, this bit of dying dust,
That time each day with sure precision mars
Beneath the slow corrode, the creeping rust,
A something lives that contemplates the stars.
Beyond the glitter of the cradled throng,
Within myself, a watcher of the sky
Has wrung from distant harmonies of song,
One broken chord to measure Heaven by.
A flame against the wind, serene, aloof,
It dares to burn across the darkest night,
As constellations in the vaulted roof
Of heaven blaze, immutable with light.
A flame beyond the reach of dying clod,
Within myself, omnipotent, is God!

God in His Heaven -- whirling with His hand
The universes to their destined place,
God in the heart that dares to understand,
God in the mind that never sees His face.
God in the grass, the flower, the leaf, the tree,
The full corn in the ear, the quickening seed,
God in the wind, the earth, the sky, the sea,
In every stick and stone and dusty weed.
God in the song that ripples from the breast
Of each gay-plumaged bird with thrilling note,
God in the humble sparrow in her nest
Though dumb the song within her muted throat.
God in myself, the living vital part,
His soul the dream that flames within my heart.





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