I sat before the shrine
Of perfection
Mother –
The spirit of life –
Suffused my soul
With piercing splendor
And I wept
Beauty sings to me in slow whispers
Its breath, the smell of fresh waters
Its sight, delicate droplets of rain
Disturbing the stillness of ponds,
Forming bands like halos
The whispers are faraway
Psalms – aged symphonies –
Journeying with the breeze,
Resting in the breast of a willow
Stretching like the gentle glow
Of a languid sun amidst the desert
Of the sky
It strikes deep
Like a terrible harpoon
Sending ripples
Of rapture
And I weep
And I heed you
Out of the darkness
Of my cave
Will sprout life
Out of life
Or I vow to die
Trying 
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