A balance hangs between the day and night,Suspended from a beam of frozen sound;One tray is filled with plumes of solar light,The other with the gravity of ground.The traveler must place his beating heart,Upon the plate of argent-hollowed steel;To see if he has mastered every part,Of the revolving, ever-turning wheel.The needle quivers on the edge of truth,Between the mercy and the rigorous law;Between the fires of a reckless youth,And wisdom’s cold and penetrating awe.The scales find stillness in a perfect line,A symmetry of human and divine.
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