caracol, to luff at any lull

I saw them flying. If
The wind got brisk and blew
Their breastbone fluff apart

They reeled, sideslipping,
Then each would caracol,
To luff at any lull.

I saw them reeling, each
easily righting itself
And flying, flying on.

Christopher Middleton, "A Pair of Herons"

your levity brings a calm of visions

Number may vanish there. Blind hence your levity brings
A calm of visions into the puckered face of things.
Even that world's elision into a wrung tear;
Even this radiance you wrench clear of the world.

Christopher Middleton, "The Suspense"

there madly lurks

What, then, is the unknown? It is the frontier that is continually arrived at, and therefore when the category of motion is replaced by the category of rest it is the difference, the absolutely different. But it is the absolutely different in which there is no distinguishing mark. Defined as the absolutely different, it seems to be at the point of being disclosed, but not so, because the understanding cannot even think the absolutely different; it cannot absolutely negate itself but uses itself for that purpose and consequently thinks the difference in itself, which it thinks by itself. It cannot absolutely transcend itself and therefore thinks as above itself only the sublimity that it thinks by itself. If the unknown (the god) is not solely the frontier, then the one idea about the different is confused with the many ideas about the different. The unknown is then in [dispersion], and the understanding has an attractive selection from among what is available and what fantasy can think of (the prodigious, the ridiculous, etc.).

But this difference cannot be grasped securely. Every time this happens, it is basically an arbitrariness, and at the very bottom of devoutness there madly lurks the capricious arbitrariness that knows it itself has produced the god.

Soren Kierkegaard, Philosophical Fragments