By James M. Warnack

Above all, yet of all and in all,

Majestic I stand,

The essence of ether, the tone of all form

And all sound.

I am the uncreated, yet all-creative am I;

With Myself and none else do I deal

—United, alone;

Looking afar

Over all that has breath and that dies,

Yet knowing that unto Myself

Is no death or revival.

Watching the dawn in the east

And the sundown smile,

Mad in the moonlight,

Drunk with the glow of day;

Glad with the blooming flowers,

At home in the clouds,

Loving the thunder

And riding the reckless winds,

Swooning and sick

From the song of the whirling worlds;

Drowsing with insects

Down on the steaming earth,

Feeling the life

In the seed of the thing that is sown,

Seeing the light in the slime and the lily as one;

In Me the mountains and forests,

The deserts and seas—

In Me the actions of men

And the thoughts that are still.

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