The Savannah morning news., 1901-10-19

foot is lost, and some giant hand is
twisting him swiftly.
Now he flies faster and faster. He
remembers as a child how this was
once a play. Yet never did he spin
as now. He rocks and staggers. The
walls of the room disappear. He is in
space, rushing through the starry sky.
he calls upon the name of strange
gods. He cries that the chain of the
pear Is wound around him; that
Orlon's club is torn away; that worlds
and consultations are swept with him.
The scenes before him are but as
strings of gold and blue, flowing from
his eyes as he turns.
His brain is more confused, for he
dreams that he is the plaything of
child; giant top. The sky-dwelling
child has lost him, and through UNI.
known realms he has spun away. in
dizzy circles, never to be found again,
Now once more he feels the net
about him. and he begs for sleep. A
little sleep for the love of Heaven.
He. dreams that he has shot the alba
tross and is desolate on a wide. wide
sea.
He forget the wish for sleep. In
yonder dark corner is spy. He pen
etrates the mans thoughts and
catches them in his hands like little
birds. They will grow in time and tes-
tify against him. He shrinks and
tries to flee. The spy follows.
They traverse vast deserts, and lonely
seas, and always there is no hope Of
separation. The man turns in anger
and SEXES the spy, tearing him to frag-
ments. Each fragment becomes man.
A wall closes around them all, the
man and the thousand spies. He rushes
madly at his enemies, and all the great
hands grasp him. He strives to give
battle, and behold the walls and floors
and ceiling are hungry mouths that
would tear him.
He thinks to bury his secret, and, be-
meath his feet, crushed as he steps up
on them, lie eyes as the sands of the
sea.
Only a little sleep, he cries, and then
dreams again.
The net is hung upon a star. 1t has
. rope as long as hate, as strong as
love.
The net swings, pulled by mighty
forms. 1t rushes through unfathoned
depths, down, down, forever; it is a
million years for every change, and
every change is thick with fear.
There is blaekness everywhere, and
he hears the sunlight go screaming
past him, searching for worlds UNI
known.
The great visions have ceased.
A room lies before the man, dark
within its center. Along it's edge he
sees a woman's form. She bears a child
that cries for food. The mans eyes fix
themselves upon her. He thinks he
goes to meet her. Then he starts back
with a cry. All around the woman
and child are pits set thick with points
of steel. The child cries in terror, for
it's lips are red with blood 1t slips
from its mothers hands, for they are
slippery and red. He falls towards the
steel swords. and the mother gives a
great cry and would fain hold her lit
tie one. The man springs to her side.
Together they seize the child, who has
become as lead and who, crying for
aid, still slips towards the cruel pit.
The man cries in agony: "Oh, Mary,
wife of my heart!" and behold she, too,
has fallen upon the piercing points.
The woman and child cry to him fol
help, and he stands cropping wildly, for
all the eyelids from all the eyes he
trod upon have closed upon his own.
He thinks he is torn away from those
he loves, and as he falls through
space their cries follow him like black
sunbeams, and stunt all the flowers
of his soul.
He comes to strange lands and sud
denly hangs suspended above the
world.
he dreams JnaC q giant power RACKS
him so that across the entire f1rma-
ment he lies stretched in agony. Amid
the mighty sky masses of color who
rule and govern the realms come to
assail him.
Through his veins flow currents Of
blue. his arteries pulsate with torrents
that seem drawn from the wells of
the sky. The golden summer noon
and he are one. and through his skin
the drops of molten sunlight drip.
Then the color changes to green. He
feels the trees springing to life amid
his tortured frame. the lank grasses
are growing from his eyes; a tangle of
rushes is around his heart. and the
agony of awakening leaves and flowers
is rising within his blood.
Now blackness creeps upon him.
1t edges its slow way seeking for en-
trance, and 1t slips beneath his nails;
it mounts and writhes within him.
oh, the horror of it! The load he
carries within his veins would blot
out a thousand suns. 1t lies soft and
heavy upon his lips, and the angels
who see him turn from this blackened
soul of night.
He would cry aloud. but he is soaked
in darkness. If his lips open he would
die, the world is gone, he must lie there
forever where the black rain buries
him ever deeper in the bottomless pit
of night.
Oh, listen how the drops fall upon
him, dreadful, desolate, amending.
The mains brain is darkened, and I
can tell no more.