'Let it go hence,' they sang.
Let it go hence, dissolve and be no body.
Drop it, release it, drop it gently,
as a stone is loosed from the fingers drooping over a still pool.
Let it go down, sink, fall away.
Once below the surface there are no divisions,
no layers in the water yielding all the way down;
all one and all unwounded is that element.
Send it voyaging where it will not come again.
Let it go down; the hnau rises from it.
This is the second life, the other beginning.
Open, oh coloured world, without weight, without shore.
You are second and better; this was first and feeble.
Once the worlds were hot within and brought forth life,
but only the pale plants, the dark plants.
We see their children when they grow to-day,
out of the sun's light in the sad places.
After, the heaven made grow another kind on worlds:
the high climbers, the bright-haired forests, cheeks of flowers.
First were the darker, then the brighter.
First the worlds' blood, then the suns' brood.
-C. S. Lewis, Out of the Silent Planet