There was nothing in the Virgin's soul
There was nothing in the Virgin's soul
	that belonged to the Virgin --
	no word, no thought, no image, not intent.
	She was a pure, transparent pool reflecting
	God, only God.
	She held Love's burnished day; she held Love's night
	of planet-glow on shade inscrutable.
	God was her sky and she who mirrored God
	became Love's firmament.
	
	When I so much as turn my thoughts toward her
	my spirit is enisled in her repose.
	And when I gaze into her selfless depths
	an anguish in me grows
	to hold such blueness and to hold such fire.
	I pray to hollow out my earth and be
	filled with these waters of transparency.
	I think that one could die of this desire,
	seeing oneself dry earth or stubborn sod.
	Oh, to become a pure pool like the Virgin,
	water that lost the semblances of water
	and was a sky like God.
