Alzaprazolam

The water cuts the land in two;
If the sky will betoken itself
When one half of the earth rests on its gloom,
He who would walk to the cleft and stretch his palms
For the rite, since he would not know what to do
With the light, much less pity, for the sake of the act
Recluding all salvation, would breathe
A salutation -- whether to stain the moon
Or push himself on stars --

His own ear heard it only
And could exalt the sound.