Paracelsus in Excelsis

Being no longer human, why should I  
Pretend humanity or don the frail attire?  
Men have I known and men, but never one  
Was grown so free an essence, or become  
So simply element as what I am.  
The mist goes from the mirror and I see.  
Behold! the world of forms is swept beneath-  
Turmoil grown visible beneath our peace,  
And we that are grown formless, rise above-  
Fluids intangible that have been men,  
We seem as statues round whose high-risen base  
Some overflowing river is run mad,  
In us alone the element of calm.