OBSTINATE ARE THE trammels, but my heart aches when I try to break them.
Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed.
I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that thou art my best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away the tinsel that fills my room.
The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust and death; I hate it, yet hug it in love.
My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and heavy; yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted.

THE DAY IS dim with rain.
Angry lightnings glance through the tattered cloud-veils.
And the forest is like a caged lion shaking its mane in despair.
On such a day amidst the winds beating their wings, let me find my peace in thy presence,
For the sorrowing sky has shadowed my solitude, to deepen the meaning of thy touch about my heart.

THOU ART A glimmer of gold from the dawn on my life's shore,
a dew-drop on the first white flower of autumn.
Thou art a rainbow from the distant sky
bending o'er the dust,
a dream of the crescent moon
touched with a white cloud,
thou art a secret of paradise
revealed by chance to the earth.
Thou art my poet's vision,
appearing from the days
of my forgotten birth,
thou art the word that is never for utterance,
a freedom that comes in the form of a bondage,
for thou openest the door for me
to the beauty of a living light.