O men of sight—what a sight! You’ve passed,

as mysteries perceiving,

through spirit’s eyes

to announce

in shining shadow

a living, piercing light

that buds upon that single branch

that flourished at

the entrance of

deep-rooted light:

You saints of old!

You have foretold salvation

of souls in exile plunged,

in death immersed.

You circled

wondrously like wheels,

proclaimed the mountain’s mysteries

whose top the heavens touched

and passed through many waters with anointing—

yet still among you

rose a shining lamp

that raced ahead, that mountain to reveal.