Nirvana

Poised as a god whose lone, detachèd post, A eyrie, pends between the boundary-marks Of finite years and those unvaried darks That veil Eternity, I saw the host Of suns and worlds, swept from the furthermost Of night— confusion as of dust with sparks— Whirl toward the opposing brink; as one who harks Some warning trumpet. Time, a withered ghost, Fled with them: disunited orbs that late Were atoms of the universal frame, They passed to some eternal fragment-heap. And, lo ! the gods, from space discorporate, Who were its life and vital spirit, came, Drawn voidward by the vampire-lips of Sleep !