I am the face imaged in the sky,
Of Nature and Self I tie the troth;
The white-hot fire of askesis am I,
The ageless Witness of my own fallen truth.
In the core of the suns my strength is cast,
In the chest of the rock my form iconed,
The fruit from the trees are my hourly repast,
In the forest I’ve sired a recalcitrant Son.
Fierce is the flame of my burning joy
And harsh is the summon of my flute;
The surge of all existence I enjoy,
And lose myself as its original root.