Psyche and Zephyr

Wind from the west,

with your invitation to fly away with you:

but to what?

Where will you carry me?

High above the world, yes:

but my dreams have already carried me there.

I have seen already

the wonders of the clouds,

I have felt already

the touch of the moon’s dusty face 

as she sails these seas of early summer.

I know well enough

how the world looks from your realm,

the drowsy shepherds of Arcadia,

lovers, lost to all but themselves,

the way the sails of ships

seem like wind-borne feathers

on the sea’s swell and fall far below:

I have seen them all in dreams

and know how small they are

from these celestial heights.

What more can you show me?

You have promised me all and everything

and you continue to make your promises

even as we both rise.

But do you not realise

how thin the air now grows?

And how fierce the heat of the approaching sun?

Still you continue to make your promises

even as we both rise.

But do you not understand

that in the thin air of these heights

I now can hardly hear you?

And if you carry me higher

into this sky-borne silence

I will not hear your promises at all?

Detail of Night and Sleep by Evelyn de Morgan