LIII: Much More than Man

A chariot of gleaming gold would not

be what I’d think to see when Christ should come.

Nor anything that should consume my thought

beyond the brilliant burning of the Sun.

Of splendor, yes, the two might be the same—

that golden vessel and that blinding light—

but something changes in the way it’s named

that’s either glory wrought or paltry blight.

The chariot of any God that’s true

is not some gilded harness of man’s eye,

but its undoing, its consuming coup,

that says: O paltry man, your end is nigh.

His chariot would not be golden fame

but draws the eye because it is a flame.