OUT of my deeper heart a bird rose and flew skyward.
Higher and higher did it rise, yet larger and larger did it grow.
At first it was but like a swallow, then a lark, then an eagle, then as vast as a spring cloud, and then it filled the starry heavens.
Out of my heart a bird flew skyward. And it waxed larger as it flew. Yet it left not my heart.
. . . . . .
O my faith, my untamed knowledge, how shall I fly to your height and see with you man’s larger self pencilled upon the sky?
How shall I turn this sea within me into mist, and move with you in space immeasurable?
How can a prisoner within the temple behold its golden domes?
How shall the heart of a fruit be stretched to envelop the fruit also?
O my faith, I am in chains behind these bars of silver and ebony, and I cannot fly with you.
Yet out of my heart you rise skyward, and it is my heart that holds you, and I shall be content.
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