I hold the crimson fruit

and plumage of the palm;

flame-tree, that scarlet spirit,

in my soil takes root.

My days burn with the sun,

my nights with moon and star,

since into myself I took

all living things that are.

All things that glow and move,

all things that change and pass,

I gather their delight

as in a burning-glass;

all things I focus in

the crystal of my sense.

I give them breath and life

and set them free in the dance.

I am a tranquil lake

to mirror their joy and pain;

and all their pain and joy

I from my own heart make,

since love, who cancels fear

with his fixed will,

burned my vision clear

and bid my sense be still.

('The Maker' by Judith Wright)