The Box full of Darkness

Monster

All that is gold...

Paracelsus

At times I almost dream

I too have spent a life the sages’ way,

And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance

I perished in an arrogant self-reliance

Ages ago; and in that act a prayer

For one more chance went up so earnest, so

Instinct with better light let in by death,

That life was blotted out — not so completely

But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,

Dim memories, as now, when once more seems

The goal in sight again.

Robert Browning