​Mind and heart, at their peak,
Reflect the light that is unique.

They have their own snow and their own history.
Be careful lest you mix their dust with mystery.

​God’s lamp is shining
In every apple of the spirit
The firefly gives light of life
The summer night does wear it.

And you, you stitch the wise
Curtains of the mind,
The green auroral sweep
To the vast, unceasing wind.

The marble maiden enters
The stark and rough tent
Her beauty is our beauty,
We give her her tint.

So our home shines with beauty
It is the house of God
And the blend of its colors
Beyond stone, beyond wood.

​There is nothing in the world
That does not arouse thought.
No vain star, no meaningless quark,
No cell whose quest for life is overwrought.

It is in the resonance
Of every photon,
And every galaxy struggles valiantly
To shout out and draw his coat on.

Everything can be read,
No expanse of space lies fallow,
Even to the medieval mind
Lit by the merest tallow.

The Torah is shining,
It sparkles like fireworks in June,
It is the sun that one day
Will strike with its full blast upon the moon.

And you who are wise of heart,
You whose eyes are wide as saucers,
You who have ridden upon the backs of dolphins
And discovered all the Blakes and Chaucers,

Will read the Torah in the firmament
And every resonating string
And every theory of frothing space
And every ptesosaur’s feathered wing,

Because everything is the word of God,
Because the night is a patch of His robe,
And His words are swimming in the Amazon’s mud
And in every nascent, fizzing globe.

And then turn in from the night
From the star-speckled field,
For some light may be seen,
Yet still more is concealed.

​Healthy bodies, meaning: pure and clean,
I mean, beautiful within and without--
And noble souls--
    How I would wish to meet them hereabout--

Said to be—I say—courageous and sweet,
Said to be pure as olive oil,
    I hesitate to say—where is my hope?
    Are they all mythic & beneath the soil?

We must strive to increase
Among all humankind,
Even more, among Jews,
Cultivating the clarified mind--

    Is there such a thing,
    Any such thing remaining?
    I would rather visit gravesites
    With the wet wind raining--

Push away your thoughts
That disturb this twin intent--
It is the goal of life--
A soul’s embodiment--

Through means of deed & mind--
Through spiritual flair--
    Though I’ve been disappointed
    On this thoroughfare--

The songbird sings
With natural art.
The sculptor and poet
Are his counterpart.

The songbird contains
Every species of song,
Every thought, every scent
That the wind bears along.

He unites all scraps
Of stray melody,
Discordant to others,
In his own single key.

His unified soul
Sings without and within,
Till he binds and unites
From the bone to the skin.

And the clusters of song
That his visions release
Adorn the world
With points of peace.

​When it is love
That impels you to return
And not the fear 
Of flames that burn,

You must persuade yourself
To forgive
All you did wrong,
As you ask others to forgive

All you’ve done wrong.
And when you are clear,
And free and scrubbed
And fresh and dear,

Down will come brightness
From the highest good
And turn all your dimness
To a rain-smelling wood.