Pascal had his Void that went with him day and night.
Alas! Itís all Abyss, action, longing, dream,
the Word! And I feel Panicís storm-wind stream
through my hair, and make it stand upright.
Above, below, around, the desert, the deep,
the silence, the fearful compelling spaces...
With his knowing hand, in my dark, God traces
a multi-formed nightmare without release.
I fear sleep as one fears a deep hole,
full of vague terror. Where to, who knows?
I see only infinity at every window,
and my spirit haunted by vertigoís stress
envies the stillness of Nothingness.
Ah! Never to escape from Being and Number!