One Three Nine

I searched, I did
I know many things, I do
My thoughts are close to me, so close
Flames searing my innermost parts
Sitting down, arising
The flames of thought burn and burn
The scruntinised path, the bed I lie upon so singed
Intimately aquainted with the worded tongue
I am enclosed
My hand laid upon the plough, it trembles
The knowledge of you high-beamed above me, unattained
Where can I go? Rooted to the spot
Or winged, dawn breaks me down
What remains unshaken? How I am led?
Darkness and light alike, interwined in the innerward part
Woven in mother's womb
Fearfully wonderfully worked
Exposed frame skilfully wrought
O, my unformed substance has formed an outer shell
And I cannot see the days ordained
Nor what is written in your book:
You say, there is a hurtful and an everlasting way
And the heart is to be searched for anxious thoughts most dear
And that on the wings of dawn, the choice is clear