The full earth in the middle of all is less than I am
the moon less silvered, the sun slower.
The earth's lovely cheek I stroke with my fingers,
the green fields and I puddle the seas in my palms.
I plunge deep, sunder hell's floor and soar fleet in flight over high heaven to look down over the shoulders of angels at all the earth and the ages of its living, and that earth, those ages, those seas' streamings, I am and inhabit them.
