How does it feel
With the whole of creation,
That bears heat of the sun,
And makes ideas real  
                              
Creation is naught
But a beaming self portrait,
Intended fully to fit
Our souls that we’ve wrought

We create from nothing
The glorious visage;
Our rite of passage
Into beautiful something.

The imprints of our soul most cleverly laid,
The blueprints of life are beautifully laid.