An Easter Poem Offering

I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you 
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre, 
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
 With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness, 
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama 
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away—

Or as, when an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations
And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence
 And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen
 Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about; 
Or when, under ether, the mind is conscious but conscious of nothing—

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope 
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith 
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. 
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: 
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

"East Coker" by T.S. Eliot