O FIRE, MY brother, I sing victory to you. You are the bright red image of fearful freedom. You swing your arms in the sky, you sweep your impetuous fingers across the harp-string, your dance music is beautiful. When my days are ended and the gates are opened you will burn to ashes this cordage of hands and feet. My body will be one with you, my heart will be caught in the whirls of your frenzy, and the burning heat that was my life will flash up and mingle itself in your flame.
THE SAME stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers. It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and of death, in ebb and in flow. I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.
