Chapter XII: Introduction (12)

This youthful mystic will not be to blame,
Who hopes this day to dedicate himself
Unto the wisdom, if in these next hours
A wrong emotion, such as may gush out
Unheeded from his heart, should throw its rays
Upon our sacred rite, and in this act
Should through our symbols draw nigh spirit-spheres
Whence ill results in consequence must flow
Into the current of our human life.
The guides and leaders are themselves to blame.
Have they not learned to know the mystic force
Which penetrates in some mysterious way
With spirit every word and sigh of ours;
And ceases not from action even when
The contents of a soul are poured therein
Which hinders cosmic evolution's course?
Instead of this young mystic consciously
Here to the spirit off'ring up himself,
His teachers drag him like a sacrifice
Into the holy precincts, where his soul
Unconsciously he to the spirit yields.
For verily he would not take this road
If he were conscious master of his soul.
Within the circle of our mysteries
The highest hierophant alone doth know
What mystic truths lurk in our sacred forms.
But he is dumb as solitude itself.
Such silence his high dignity commands.
The others gaze uncomprehendingly
When of our ritual's real intent I speak.

So am I left to bear my cares alone;
Well-nigh unbearable their burden seems
When all the meaning of our ritual
And of our temple is borne in on me.
One thing especially I deeply feel--
The solitude of this stern spirit-shrine.
Why do I feel so lonely in this place?
The soul must ask this question. When, ah, when
Will to my soul the spirit make reply?

Curtain falls slowly

SCENE 8