Too Much Reality Can Be A Dazzle,

And Soon A Branch, Part Of A Hidden Scene,the Leafy Mind, That Long Was Tightly Furled,will Turn Its Private Substance Into Green,and Young Shoots Spread Upon Our Inner World.

The Self Says, I Am; The Heart Says, I Am Less; The Spirit Says, You Are Nothing.

I Bleed My Bones, Their Marrow To Bestowupon That God Who Knows What I Would Know.

In This Place Of Light: He Dares To Live Who Stops Being A Bird, Yet Beats His Wings Against The Immense Immeasurable Emptiness Of Things.

We Think By Feeling. What Is There To Know?