Nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness
in deep down things;
And though the last
lights off the
black West went
Oh, morning,
at the brown brink
eastward, springs . . .
Because the Holy Ghost
over the bent
world broods
with warm breast
and with ah!
bright wings.
Spirituality is an inner fire, a mystical sustenance that feeds our souls. The mystical journey drives us into ourselves to a sacred flame at our center.