The Testament of a Patriarch

I go into my rest.
I leave you this for testament.
Become the warhorse of your God.
Be killed for Beauty. Build
Out of all precious things your Life.
Find out the deep place in the heart
Where grow the apples of the sun,
And learn the sweet vermillion of their taste.
Become all flame but let your words
Be as the gentle heaven’s dew. 
Become a hunger so insatiable
That it will feed the souls of men,
For borrowed hunger is the food
Which makes us learn the central ache
In whose declivities the morning stars
Pour out as blossoms on a lake.

Speak always to the angels in the wind;
Of animals and trees be you the friend.
Be thankful for the pale fire
That rains from the white moon that is your mind.
Be sure there is a rose where you have found a thorn;
Pity all men, and flag your wits to find
The endless glory in the worst of them.
Be so deliberate a Yes that worlds are born;
Bless everything and God will make it yours.
Here is the marrow of my testament,
That God is Love, wherein is made our Hope.