THE world is ruled by me and God:
Silent we single from the crowd
The ugly, mean: the fair, the proud,
At one irrevocable nod
Go down, go down and bite the sod.
Here, where despised I sit alone,
Almighty God hath reared His throne:
Am I cast down, abject, afeard,
To gaze within those eyes unseared
By myriad lights of million suns
Which roll relentless round His feet?
Watch me—I smile, I hold his beard.
Houses we crumble in our hands
And shake their vermin down to Hell—
Yea, all the proud indifferent lands
That know me not for over-lord—
For over-lord and God as well,
Resistlessly their rests are hurled
Beyond the ramparts of the world.
Here in my freezing little room
I rouse the innavigable seas;
The screaming breakers black with doom
Crush the strong ships against the coast:
I raise my hand, sweep out the stars,
And in the crash of smashing spars
God, I and God laugh through the gloom.
Then gazing in each other’s eyes
We slide, we slide into a dream,
While myriad worlds around arise,
Slip past, and strow their myriad gleam—
Phantasmagoria they seem,
The thick dust of eternities:
But awful, stony, thunder-shod,
We trample down the firmament,
For God is I, and I am God.
O’Sullivan, Vincent. “Megalomania.” The Venture: an Annual of Art and Literature, vol. 2, 1905, pp. 161-162. Venture Digital Edition, edited by Lorraine Janzen Kooistra, 2019-2022. Yellow Nineties 2.0, Toronto Metropolitan University Centre for Digital Humanities, 2022, https://1890s.ca/vv2-osullivan-megalomania