“Your shadow is moonlight on a plate of silver; your footsteps, the seeding-place of lilies; the mystery of your voice, a chime of bells across the windless river air. The movement of your hands is the long golden running of light from a rising sun. Young horses are not more limber than your thoughts. Your laughs are bees buzzing around a pear tree. I dare to reach to you. I dare to touch the rim of your brightness.”