Or looked deep into that cave of chrysoprase where a golden cloud veils the altar and behind which is Himself.

He is always arguing about those things which do not matter,

And accepting deep festered fetters on his soul.

POET: When I look upon the roof of Night, I marvel that there be one who cares for what another

thinks, Or in the bigness of this universe there be a soul so

small to Feel the sting of ignorant opinion ; the contemptible

multitude. I know for every one, were he but bold, Surely along some starry path, his soul awaits him.

TRUTH: You, too, are part of the cosmos And should sweep free in your orbit as the stars in theirs.

,/ POET:

The Desert terrifies me.

I am penetrated by its awe, vast and solitary. Humbly I take my place with yon little lizard, As the child of Creation.

Dimly, I begin to know that Nature has designed Freedom for every one, without exception; Each in the possession of his own soul, Under eternal conditions which envelop all As the air envelopes the Earth.

TRUTH: Freedom is the air of the soul. To be uncontrolled is the life of the race.

POET: Your thoughts penetrate me even as the insistent sap penetrates to the tips of the leaves, unfolding their tender fingers.

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