Nathan AM Almeida

[10 December 2018]

Oh, magnum mysterium!
Oh, holy paramour!
Oh, sacred flame that dusking lay beneath the
willow’s shading spread:

That I might die again in spring and be born in winter, that I might close my eyes among the lilies and be covered in cherry blossoms. The years of pilgrimage draw close and may end in a single night.
Find rest, my soul, in sleep. The time is now at hand.

Green grows the grass on the grain field;
soft blows the wind through your hair.
The storm and the olive lie down together;
the wind and the waves are awed.

Oh, wondrous mirror,
Oh, crystal font:
strip me that I be dressed;
wash me that I be clean;
know me that I know myself;
fill me that I know rest.