THE SKY SETS no snare to capture the moon, it is her own freedom which binds her. The light that fills the sky seeks its limit in a dew-drop on the grass.
THE JOY RAN from all the world to build my body. The lights of the skies kissed and kissed her till she woke. Flowers of hurrying summers sighed in her breath and voices of winds and water sang in her movements. The passion of the tide of colours in clouds and in forests flowed into her life, and the music of all things caressed her limbs into shape. She is my bride,-she has lighted her lamp in my house.
