I am part of that part which once, when all began, Was all there was; part of the Darkness before man 1350 Whence light was born, proud light, which now makes futile war To wrest from Night, its mother, what before Was hers, her ancient place and space. For light depends On the corporeal worlds—matter that sends Visible light out, stops light in its stride And by reflected light is beautified. So, light will not last long, I fear; Matter shall be destroyed, and light shall disappear.
