O World of many worlds, O life of lives, <br />What centre hast thou? Where am I? <br />O whither is it thy fierce onrush drives? <br />Fight I, or drift; or stand; or fly? <br /> <br /> <br />The loud machinery spins, points work in touch; <br />Wheels whirl in systems, zone in zone. <br />Myself having sometime moved with such, <br />Would strike a centre of mine own. <br /> <br /> <br />Lend hand, O Fate, for I am down, am lost! <br />Fainting by violence of the Dance… <br />Ah thanks, I stand - the floor is crossed, <br />And I am where but few advance. <br /> <br /> <br />I see men far below me where they swarm… <br />(Haply above me - be it so! <br />Does space to compass-points conform, <br />And can we say a star stands high or low?) <br /> <br /> <br />Not more complex the millions of the stars <br />Than are the hearts of mortal brothers; <br />As far remote as Neptune from small Mars <br />Is one man's nature from another's. <br /> <br /> <br />But all hold course unalterably fixed; <br />They follow destinies foreplanned: <br />I envy not these lives in their faith unmixed, <br />I would not step with such a band. <br /> <br />To be a meteor, fast, eccentric, lone, <br />Lawless; in passage through all spheres, <br />Warning the earth of wider ways unknown <br />And rousing men with heavenly fears… <br /> <br /> <br />This is the track reserved for my endeavour; <br />Spanless the erring way I wend. <br />Blackness of darkness is my meed for ever? <br />And barren plunging without end? <br /> <br /> <br />O glorious fear! Those other wandering souls <br />High burning through that outer bourne <br />Are lights unto themselves. Fair aureoles <br />Self-radiated these are worn. <br /> <br /> <br />And when in after times those stars return <br />And strike once more earth's horizon, <br />They gather many satellites astern, <br />For they are greater than this system's Sun.<br /><br />Wilfred Owen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-world-of-many-worlds/
