The mountain at a given distance In amber lies; Approached, the amber flits a little,-- And that's the skies!
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
But when the self speaks to the self, who is speaking? The entombed soul, the spirit driven in, in, in to the central catacomb; the self that took the veil and left the world -- a coward perhaps, yet somehow beautiful, as it flits with its lantern restlessly up and down the dark corridors.
Life like an empty dream flits by.
The true picture of the past flits by. The past can be seized only as an image which flashes up at the instant when it can be recognized and is never seen again.