Some Thing that moves among the stars, And holds the cosmos in a web of law, Moves too in me: a hunger, a quick thaw Of soul, that liquifies the ancient bars, As I, a member of creation, sing The burning oneness binding everything.
For all its silence, the sky has a language. Without any words the stars speak many things right into our hearts. They hand there so silent and radiant — and how one's breast swells at the thought of being able to attain the same purity. At times it seems as if their light is of little benefit. Yet is is by them that we measure hours, days, and years. By them — or at least by the star nearest to us, the sun — we have light and heart, and our existence depends on it.
