Primal Source

IN a strange thrill of
re my spirit leaps

As I remember thy mysterious face;

All beauty seems a spark born from thy grace:

Even the dim invisible ame that sleeps

In the cradle of night curtained by nebulous dreams

Bears the still secret of thy magic thought;

The vast silences of the sky are wrought

From thy immutable ecstasy that streams

Like a song through every branching space of air.

Thy subtle Presence dwells in every heart,

The brooding in
nities are a timeless part

Of thy Vision and its sun-magni
cence share.

My solitude is
lled with thy delight;

Drinking thy beauty like a passionate wine

My ickering mortality grows divine,

A shadowless image of the In
nite.

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