I loved with heart only my self:
My woe stopped not, I'm in bad health.
I loved with heart all of creation:
It ended my heart's trepidation.

And I sewed my Heart in soils,
Of Love, which with the Earth embroils,
And I fed it with the blistering sun,
Of Truth, through which cosmic fires run.

For months and years my Heart gestate,
Till in Love's truth it ruminate,
When I awoke I was glad to see,
Harmony, my hippie tree.